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V 



THE OLD HAN’S SEA STORIES 



AN OCEAN TRAMP 


BVy 

PHILIP D HEYWOOD 

It 


„ JIjN 6 1888 — )y 


BOSTON 

D LOTHROP COMPANY 

FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS 





Copyright, 1888, 

BY 

D. Lothrop Company. 


CONTENTS 


Chap. 



Page. 

I. 

I GO TO Sea 


7 

II. 

On Board the Gladiator . 


27 

III. 

In the South Atlantic 


44 

IV. 

“ Doubling the Horn ” 


55 

V. 

The last of the Gladiator 


66 

VI. 

Castaways 


8s 

VII. 

The Tornado .... 


100 

VIII. 

A Battle with Coolies 


123 

IX. 

A Fortunate Encounter . 


137 

X. 

In Her Majesty’s Customs . 


152 

XL 

Afloat Again .... 


167 

XII. 

Treasure hunting 


186 

XIII. 

Under the Southern Cross 


2 II 









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AN OCEAN TRAMP. 


>1 

CHAPTER I. 

I GO TO SEA, 

When my father, James Bonny, first set- 
tled in Potter County, Pennsylvania, the 
country around our cabin was a wilderness. 
Even in 1868, the year in which I left home 
to become a sailor, there had been but little 
change. No wagon could come within six- 
teen miles of us, and within all that distance 
we had but one neighbor. In fact, we lived 
very much as did the pioneers a century 
before us. Bear and deer were plenty in 
the mountains, and my father made most of 
our living with his rifle. 

One fall day when I was six years old 
he went off early in the morning to look 
after a bear trap that he had set on the 
7 


8 


I Go to Sea. 


Laurel Ridge, and, strangely enough, he left 
his two dogs at home, penning them up in 
a log crib near our cabin. The poor ani- 
mals seemed to have a premonition of evil, 
for they j'elled all that day, and nearly tore 
the place down. He never came back ; nor 
from that day to this has there ever been 
found any trace of him. It is probable that 
he was set upon and killed by a bear that 
he had wounded ; and that, without the dogs, 
he was unable to keep out of the way of 
the enraged beast. More than one incident 
of this kind had happened in our vicinity. 
We waited and watched in vain; the 
mountain, like the sea, gave not up its dead. 

My mother mourned greatly ; but, like 
most border women, she was very brave 
and self-reliant. We were practically iso- 
lated from human aid and sympathy, for 
our only neighbor lived on the other side 
of the ridge, fully six miles away. 

I had an elder brother, and a sister who 


I Go to Sea. 


9 


was younger than myself. George was a 
born hunter, and although only thirteen he 
ranged the mountains with the dogs and 
rifle, and kept us in meat. It was my duty 
to take care of our six sheep, and cultivate 
our garden and the acre of corn that gave 
us all the bread we used. Although poor 
we had but few wants, and were happy and 
contented. 

Our neighbor was an old English sailor 
named Jack Percival. He was a very 
worthy man. We had a second cabin not 
two hundred yards from our own, that was 
a much better dwelling than the leaky 
shanty in which the old man lived. My 
mother therefore suggested that we should 
ask Jack to move into this cabin. 

Her object was mainly this : Jack had 
some learning, and could aid my sister and 
myself in getting a little education ; failing 
in this, we were likely to grow up in utter 
ignorance. , 


10 


I Go to Sea. 


Percival was afflicted with rheumatism, 
and made his living under many difficulties. 
He was, no doubt, j^lad of our aid and sym- 
pathy, and, much* to our joy, he consented 
to come. Although his worldly possessions 
were small, it took us two weeks to move 
them to his new home, for we had to cross 
Coulter’s Knob, a high rocky ridge covered 
with dense thickets of pine and laurel, and, 
what was still worse, it was, in summer, 
almost alive with pilot snakes. 

But we got through at last, and Jack’s 
coming was the beginning of a new life for 
me. He had some twenty books, and with 
his aid I read them all. A curious lot of 
books they were : “ Taylor’s Holy Living,” 
“ Peter Pindar’s Poems,” “ History of the 
English Bible,” “ Tom Cringle’s Log,” ‘‘ The 
Mariner’s Chronicle,” and others. 

But, better than books, and more inter- 
esting to me, were the old man’s sea stories. 
As soon as night came on, and I had cut 


I Go to Sea. 


11 


and carried into the cabin wood enough to 
last until morning, I "vrould build up the 
fire with pine knots, making the one room 
brilliant with a ruddy glow. I had made 
for Jack, out of split hickory, a rude but 
comfortable arm chair. This I had lined 
with a bear-skin that cost me five days of 
hard labor to tan, and this was his seat. 
After making him comfortable I would roll 
a section of pine-tree log to the fire as a 
stool for myself, and then he would com- 
mence in his gruff voice, addressing me 
as if I were one of his old messmates, ‘‘Ye 
see the fore-t’ogallunt sel was furled and 
the watch lay aft to reef the mainsel, and 
we didn’t hold on long with the main to’- 
gallunt sel, for that was soon clewed up.” 

Of course all this was Greek to me at 
first, but I soon came to understand it ; for 
between us we constructed a full-rigged 
ship, using homespun tow twine for rig- 
ging, and I began to know what tacks and 


12 


I Go to Sea. 


sheets were. I learned the names of all 
the sails, and the mystery of brace and 
bowline was soon revealed to me. 

Jack belonged to an age that has passed 
away as completely as has that of the 
Spanish Armada. He was a man-o’-war 
sailor when Lafitte infested the Gulf, and, 
cutlass in hand, had boarded Diaboleta’s 
fast-sailing top-sail schooner in the year 
1820 — the very year in which that terri- 
ble pirate and his crew were destroyed by 
the British sloop of war ‘‘ Curlew,” off 
Porto Rico. 

I listened to all his “yarns” with an 
amazement and delight that now seems 
comical to me after I have myself, to some 
extent, enacted these very things. But my 
life up to that time had been so colorless 
and uneventful that my mind was fresh 
and new, and my imagination awoke when 
fed upon these strange and all-engrossing 
themes. 


I Go to Sea. 


"'IB 

Like most of the old-time mariners, 
Jack was very superstitious. He fully be- 
lieved in many sea legends that are now 
forgotten. He was a Cornish man, and — 
so he assured me — he had seen on that 
fatal coast the “White Women” dancing 
on the beach at ebb tide before a storm. 
He had seen them tossing their long yel- 
low tresses, wheeling and turning in their 
ghostly rounds. Woe to him who should 
meet their glances or see the beckoning 
forefinger ere the new moon came in ! He 
would lie in the depths of the ocean before 
it quartered. 

Living an isolated life and surrounded 
by grand natural features that affected the 
imagination, I fully believed all these things, 
ledeed, to this day I hold opinions that 
would be derided as follies by the wise. 
But sailors see many things that Science 
explains either superficially, or not at all. 
The seaman is ever too close to death not 


14 


I Go to Sea. 


to be influenced by signs and tokens invisi- 
ble and unknown to the dweller on land. 
In fact, I think the hard unbelief of the 
age is as repugnant to right reason as was 
the child-like credulity of our great-grand- 
fathers. 

Many a time when stepping out of old 
Percival’s cabin into the broken moonlight, 
the ragged pines casting their weird and 
waving shadows on the ground, I would 
hear those strange voices of the night that 
dwellers in the mountain know so well ; I 
would fancy that I could make outVander- 
decken’s hoarse hail from the deck of his 
phantom ship, and often in an ecstasy of 
terror have I run as for my life, across the 
short space that separated the two cabins, 
rushing through the door with a racket 
that would arouse the dogs and awaken 
the whole family. 

One day I told Jack that I had made up 
my mind to go to sea, and that as soon as 


I Go to Sea. 


15 


I could get enough to take me to New 
York, I should go and find a ship. The 
old man was amazed and indignant. 

“ Avast, you lubber ! ” he cried ; “ after all 
I’ve told you of the hardships of a sailor’s 
life, is this the end of it ? Look at me — a 
battered old hulk without a dollar in my 
pocket after fifty years’ hard service! I 
thought ye had more sense. If I had 
known the mischief I was a-doin’, nier a 
yarn would I have spun for ye. And what 
will yer mother say ? she’ll blame me ! ” 

But when I had satisfied him that my 
purpose was fixed, he began, in his own 
words, “ to comb the hayseed out of my 
hair.” Under his tuition I learned to make 
a reef knot, a clove hitch and a carrick 
bend ; and I was very proud when I suc- 
ceeded in turning out a Turk’s-head made of 
my only fishing line. “ Hamilton Moore’s 
Manual ” I fairly got by heart, and I went 
about bawling, “ Man the main-topsail, clew 


16 


I Go to Sea. 


lines and buntlines ; ” ‘‘ weather main-top- 
sail brace,” much to the amazement of my 
mother and sister. 

About this time my father’s brother paid 
us a visit. He had a, gang of men getting 
out hemlock timber about forty miles north 
of us, and I persuaded him to take me back 
with him and let me work. I was a good 
axe-man ; the timber was light ; I could do 
as much as most of the men, and could get 
my living and eight dollars a month. 

After a year’s absence I returned with 
ninety dollars in my pocket, and two pounds 
of tobacco for Jack. Giving my mother 
fifty-five dollars, I told her that I was going 
to be a sailor, and would leave for New 
York next day. She begged me to stay, as 
she was sure that I would never come back ; 
but my heart was hardened, and after some 
good advice from poor Jack I hung my 
bundle over a stick, and bidding them all 
good-by started east through the woods. 


I Go to Sea. 


17 


How selfish and thoughtless boys are ! I 
fully believe that all my subsequent hard- 
ships and misfortunes were a punishment 
to me for neglecting and disobeying my 
mother. I had promised to return in four 
years, but twelve long and weary ones 
passed away ere I saw where my boyhood’s 
home had been. All were gone ! The cabins 
were roofless and tottering in, the garden 
and corn-field overgrown with stunted pines, 
and above the spring, in a pleasant grove 
of chestnuts, was my mother’s grave. Qp 
a blaze made with an axe, was burned the 
letters : 

Helen Bonny. Died April 12, 1878. 


Not far away was the grave of my old 
friend Jack Percival. He had died a year 
before. My brother George was in the 
western part of the State, and my sister 
Helen had gone with my uncle to Florida. 
It was some years before we all met. 


18 


I Go to Sea. 


Although I had become as hard as a back 
stay, my reflections during the sixteen miles 
solitary walk back to the settlements were 
my punishment, and it seemed almost more 
than I could bear. 

It was in May, 1868, that I left home, 
and, like most of the mountaineers, I was 
long-armed, gaunt, and round-shouldered. 
I was so thin that our first mate was justi- 
fied in telling me “ that I was all knees and 
elbows, like a young calf, and looked as if 
I jjad been fed on dried codfish tails ; ” but 
I was strong and active. 

I had a letter to a cousin of Percival’s in 
New York. His name was Hollis. He kept 
a sailors’ tavern on Greenwich street, and 
after getting to New York I had a bewilder- 
ing time finding him. He read Jack’s let- 
ter, and received me kindly, but he, also, 
advised me to give up the idea of going to 
sea. When, however, he found it of no 
use to argue longer, he sent a boy with me 



MY FIRST VIEW OF THE GLADIATOR. 





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I Go to Sea. 


21 


to hunt up the ship Gladiator. He told 
me to ask for Mr. Bailey, the first mate, 
and see whether he would take me. He 
warned me not to be put out by the mate’s 
manner ; the mate was much better than 
he looked, he said. Then Mr. Hollis sent 
me off. 

After many turns and twistings we came 
to the docks, and my guide, pointing out a 
vessel, said, “ Yon’s the Gladiator,” and with 
that he left me. 

A full-rigged ship, with bluff bows and 
a look of old-time strength and endurance, 
she was well-named the Gladiator, and 
seemed fitted to meet the charge of batter- 
ing seas and stormy blasts in the ocean 
arena. Despite my knowledge I was fairly 
bewildered by the intricacies of the rigging 
and the profusion of ropes, and I remem- 
bered Jack’s remark, that a sailor must 
know by the size and feel, in the darkest 
night, what rope it was and where it led to. 


22 


I Go to Sea. 


I determined to go aboard at once, and 
mounting the Jacob’s ladder that hung over 
the quarter, I was on deck in a moment. 
Everything was beautifully white and clean ; 
the ropes were belayed around the mast and 
on the sides in perfect order. I saw no one 
about, but presently a man came out of 
the cabin and asked me roughly, what I 
wanted. He was as bronzed as an Indian, 
and, although short in stature, seemed very 
strong and broad in build. 

Is this Mr. Bailey ? ” I inquired. 

“ Yes, Jonah, that’s my name,” he re- 
plied. Thereupon I told him my story and 
my expectations. 

“ Why, you blasted fool ! what do ye want 
to be a sailor for ? It’s a dog’s life at best, 
and you’re better off in jail ashore, than 
knocking about in all sorts of weather at 
sea. See here, my lad ! go home to yer 
mother and take care of ’her and get a 
little sense.” 


I Go to Sea. 


23 


I answered sturdily “ that I was deter- 
mined to go to sea, and that I wasn’t as 
green as I looked.” 

“ No, my lad, that’s not possible,” said 
the mate ; “ but what can ye do ? ” 

“ Well, sir, I can make a black well hitch, 
turn a Turk’s-head or a carrick-bend.” 

“ Ye can, eh ? Did ye learn that in the 
woods?” I told him of Jack Percival. 
“ Sure ye ain’t been a pirate on the canal ? ” 
he said, with doubt still in his voice. “ Here, 
take the end of them halliards and let me 
see yer carrick-bend. It’ll be a granny’s 
knot, I expect. So. H’m ! Now coil them 
ropes in regular fakes and belay ’em neat 
Ha ! now go up to the mainto’-gallant sel 
yard and tell me what ye see, and don’t 
squeeze the tar outer the ropes.” 

Now this was the test. Jack had assured 
me that I could not know whether I was 
fit for the sea life until I had gone aloft. 
A man may be ever so brave and yet want 


24 


I Go to Sea. 


th6^ head and nerve to climb the mast. 
Remember that, boys, and, before you 
make up your minds to go to sea, try to 
scale the dizzy heights of to’-gallant cross- 
trees, and if you feel a shuddering horror 
in the trial, be assured that it will never 
come easily to you, and that you had better 
stay at home. 

Jumping into the main rigging I made 
my easy way to the maintop, but here 
were the futtock-shrouds, almost horizontal. 
I knew it would never do to try the lub- 
ber’s hole, so I seized the ratlines, and with 
a sudden shortness of breath and a rush 
and tumble got over the break of the tops. 
Except that I was going up, the rest of the 
climb seemed easier, and I finally found my- 
self on the to’-gallant yard. With a slight 
giving in in the knees, and a convulsive 
grip on the royal halliards, I looked about 
me. It was all very grand : south and east 
lay Long and Staten Islands, green with 


I Go to Sea. 


25 


foliage ; north and west stretched the great 
city, with its towering steeples and its mass 
of buildings. 

When I got into the rigging, off the yard, 
I knew that I had w'on. I came down with 
ease, and reported that I saw “ nothing but 
land and water, a clear sky save light clouds 
in the southeast.” 

‘‘ All right. Now, as you haven’t got 
sense enough to take good advice, and are 
bound to be a sailor, why. I’ll speak to the 
captain about ye ; and, remember, if you 
ship on this vessel. I’ll make a square- 
rigged sailor of ye in six months, or I’ll 
break yer neck. I’ll have all the trouble 
with ye, and you must obey my orders, 
and pull yer pound ; so remember, my 
lad.” 

“ Ay, ay, sir. I’ll do my best,” I replied. 

“ You mustn’t expect more than six dol- 
lars a month,” said Mr. Bailey, “ for you’re 
only worth that much. You had better 


26 


I Go to Sea. 


stay here and help watch ship until Cap- 
tain Barnard comes aboard.” 

Well, I was a sailor at last, hard and 
fast, and I walked forward looking at every- 
thing with delighted interest. 

About four o’clock Captain Barnard came 
aboard. I was called into the cabin, and 
Mr. Bailey said : 

You haven’t changed your mind ? Well, 
sign these articles, then. You get six dol- 
lars a month, and you ship for the voyage, 
be it long or short.” 

So I was bound to see China and Java 
Head and the Cape, if the Gladiator 
rounded the Horn. 


CHAPTER II. 


ON BOARD THE GLADIATOR. 

Next day the stevedores were at work, 
stowing our cargo, and I was busy taking 
note of stores that came aboard for the use 
of the ship and crew, and reporting them 
to Mr. Bailey. 

Mr. White, a tall thin man, came now. 
He was the second mate, and was the most 
restless, active man I ever saw, never 
being quiet save when in his berth. As 
night approached I was sent ashore to get 
my supper, and then to stand anchor watch 
six hours, coming up at midnight and stay- 
ing until dawn. Mr. Bailey warned me to 
keep my weather eye open and sing out ’’ 


27 


28 


On Board the Gladiator. 


for him if any one tried to come aboard. 
The river, he said, was full of pirates who 
would “ steal the sheet anchor if they got a 
chance.” 

I lay down in an old sail and slept until 
roused by the watchman, who then went 
ashore. The weather was very fine, and 
I looked over the bows, watching the 
steamers’ lights as they flashed long gleams 
on the dark waters. In shore the docks 
lay in inky shadows and were as still as 
death until two o’clock struck in one of 
the city churches. Then I distinctly heard 
the splash of an oar, and I could make out 
a boat quietly leaving the dock, and coming 
towards the ship. 

I crouched down by the heel of the bow- 
sprit, with a handspike ready, and heard 
the boat-hook grate on the port chains. 
A moment after a man’s head came above 
the side. He was just throwing his leg 
over when I gave him a terrible blow. For 


On Board the Gladiator. 


29 


an instant he hung there, then he let go, 
and there came a great splash in the water. 
A shot was fired bj some of his mates, but 
1 was out of danger, and I sang out and 
aroused the neighborhood. Mr. Bailey 
came forward alone, and in his shirt, but 
with his pistol in hand. At once he fired 
at the retreating boat, and in a moment a 
bright light flashed in the darkness. It 
was the harbor police boat. The officers 
had evidently seen the thieves, for several 
shots were fired. In about twenty minutes, 
we were hailed and saw the police barge 
close to our quarter. 

“ Anybody shot ? ” came the query. 
Mr. Bailey told the circumstance. 

“ Well, we’ve got them, anyhow,” our 
hailer replied ; “ good-night ! ” 

The next day a policeman came aboard 
to inquire whether I could recognize the 
man who tried to rob the ship. I could only 
say “no,” and so ended my first watch. 


30 


On Board the Gladiator. 


The riggers now came aboard, and I 
watched them bend sails and overhaul the 
rigging. 

Mr. Bailey asked me if I could parcel 
and serve, and at once put me to work, knd 
he pointed out defects where I thought I 
had done especially well, and, in fact, 
threatened to “ rattle me down ” if I did 
not make my coils tight and close. He 
had a horror of carelessness, and did his own 
work as if life depended on it, as it often 
does on a ship. But, on the whole, I got on 
wonderfully well, and Mr. White remarked 
that he wished “ he could catch another 
bushwhacker ” to knock about the decks. 

I got an advance of four months pay, 
and bought a suit of oil skins, an extra pair 
of trousers, and a hook pot to hold my tea, 
a tin pan and spoon, and a supply of 
tobacco ; for I had learned to smoke in the 
lumber camp, but chewing was an abomina- 
tion to me then and now. 


On Board the Gladiator. 


31 


Our cargo was mainly flour, bales of fui’S, 
and sheetings. It was all in the hold. 
The hatch covers were put on, and the lock- 
ing bars made them fast. 

At noon a wagon came on the dock full 
of chests, and I learned that our crew 
would soon be along. I knew that much of 
my pleasure on the ship would depend on 
the character of the men I had to mess 
with, so I was anxious to see them. The 
fo’kesel hatch was unlocked, and I took a 
look at the place that was to be my sleep- 
ing and eating quarters for a year, at least. 
By the time the chests were in there was 
barely room to get to the bunks. I put 
my clothing bag in the one nearest to the 
scuttle, so that I could have some fresh air. 

As night fell the crew were brought to 
the dock in wagons. There were thirteen 
of them, and they seemed to be all drunk. 
After a great deal of pulling, hauling, and 
loud talking, we got them aboard ; three of 


32 


On Board the Gladiator. 


them were senseless, and dropped on the 
deck like lead, but they were pulled for- 
ward and left there, while the rest tumbled 
into the fo’kesel. I went down an hour 
afterwards ; it was a perfect jxandemonium. 
Two men were quarreling, and the rest 
urging them on ; the air was foul with the 
fumes of liquor and tobacco, and in the dim 
light of the swinging lamp, they looked 
more like pirates than legitimate sailors. 
I now understood Jack’s words : “ Wait till 
you see your messmates in the fo’kesel, and 
then you’ll know what life is on a ship.” 

The men that sail out of New York 
before the mast are, beyond doubt, the most 
ruffianly in the world. They are of all 
nationalities, and seldom article for the voy- 
age, but for the run, leaving the ship as 
soon as she touches the dock. It is this 
kind of a crew that makes brutal and cruel 
officers. 

At daylight all hands were called to get 


On Board the Gladiator. 


33 


up the anchor. As the men tumbled up, 
blinking and staggering in the bright clear 
morning, I could see what a debauched and 
vicious lot they were. The three drunken 
men fell down and were kicked out of the 
road by the mates. After hard work at 
the capstan we got the anchor catted. A 
tug took our line and out of the dock we 
went. After laying in the river an hour 
or so, the captain came off and our voyage 
was fairly commenced. Hurrah for the 
far East ! Due south lay our course until 
we should rock on the long rollers of the 
Pacific. 

I don’t think I heard Captain Barnard 
say ten words in that many weeks. In fact 
everything was left to Mr. Bailey. He set 
the watches, and I found myself in the port 
or first mate’s watch. All hands went aloft 
to make sail, and under jib, staysail, course, 
topsail, and spanker, we began to drive the 
water from our bows in dark-green masses. 


34 


On Board the Gladiator. 


Although all the crew were old sailors 
five of them were terribly seasick before 
night, and I too had an attack of the mis- 
erable complaint. Mr. Bailey kept me 
moving all the time, as this is the best way 
to get rid of the mal de mer, but I wished 
a dozen times over that I was back home 
talking to Jack about the ocean instead of 
tossing about on it with a bad stomach and 
a wretched headache. 

I had now a specimen of discipline as 
enforced on an American merchantman. 
One of our crew was a New York Irishman 
named Finnerty, and the hardest kind 
of a hard case. He was a very powerful 
man, and a mean bully. He had already 
boasted in the fo’kesel that he could whip 
any officer on the ship, and he did his work 
in a manner that indicated his disposition 
to be ugly and unruly. Before we had 
sunk Montauk, the row came. Finnerty 
did not come up with the rest of his watch. 


07 % Board the Gladiator. 


35 


and when Mr. Bailey hailed him he an- 
swered that he was lashing his chest. Come 
on deck ; d’ye hear ? ” called the mate. 

Finnerty came up slowly as if in no hurry. 
But just as his head came above the hatch, 
Mr. Bailey seized him by the neck and 
dragged him on deck as if he had been a 
child. Then with a terrific blow he knocked 
the fellow on the anchor chains. It made 
me sick to see him so kicked about, and in 
two minutes the man lay blind and sense- 
less, while his blood bespattered the deck. 
When the men came off the yard the mate 
called them forward, and pointing to Fin- 
nerty said : “ There’s your bully that could 
whip any officer in the ship. Now if any 
one thinks himself stout enough to man- 
handle me, let him say so right off.” 

Although Mr. Bailey was a small man, 
his courage and resolution made the others 
cower before him, and so he dismissed them, 
ordering the other watch to be called. 


36 


On Board the Gladiator. 


When we went below we took Finnerty 
with us. He was badly bruised about the 
head, but was not otherwise hurt, and did 
his duty in the future. The men generally 
thought Mr. Bailey in the right. An officer 
who cannot make himself feared will soon 
have his crew in a state of mutiny; and, 
terrible as are some of the cruelties prac- 
tised on seamen by their officers, they are 
seldom without provocation. 

As the lightest man on the ship I had a 
greater part of the dangerous work to do, 
such as overhauling and reeving stunsail 
halliards, and fitting chafing gear on the 
royal yards. But my nerve was equal to 
it, and I did my work cheerfully. The mate 
never talked to me now, and for a good 
reason : in the first place it was against 
sea-usage for an officer to have any unnec- 
essary intercourse with one of his men ; 
and, moreover, any especial notice on his 
part would have hurt me with my mess- 


On Board the Gladiator. 


37 


mates, as they would have suspected me of 
being a spy for the mate. To be considered 
a spy is the worst reputation a man can 
have on a ship. 

Our food was rough enough, and there 
was plenty of it, but the men were grum^ 
bling all the time, and complained to Mr. 
Bailey of the pea soup, which was poor 
enough ; the peas being tough and unchew- 
able as musket balls. He tasted it one day, 
and told the “ doctor,” as the cook is called, 
to soak the peas until soft, but there was no 
improvement. 

The Gladiator was neither weatherly 
nor fast. She had a trick, unless closely 
watched, of flying up in the wind and mak- 
ing endless confusion ; and she was harder 
to steer than any vessel I have ever known. 
She had a way, too, of dipping under a 
head sea that put everything afloat, and 
even wet our bedding in the fo’kesel. 

When the watch went below at noon we 


38 


On Board the Gladiator. 


took turns going to the galley to get the 
mess kids ; each one then would fill his pot 
with the hot water misnamed tea, and the 
oldest sailor would divide the meat. The 
beef was like slabs of mahogany, but the 
pork was fairly good. We would now have 
four hours leisure, and most of the men 
would stretch themselves in the bunks, and 
smoke and talk, giving me a chance to hear 
plenty of sea lore. 

Four of the men were Swedes, two were 
Finlanders, and the rest English and Ameri- 
cans. The best sailor in the crew was 
an Englishman named Gordon. He was 
built like a bulkhead, with iron muscles. 
If he was to be believed, he had been pretty 
much everything and everywhere. He had 
even been a mate on a slave ship, the Du- 
rago, that had landed four hundred 'Afri- 
cans on the west coast of Cuba in 1859. 
He could spin a good yarn, by no means a 
common accomplishment among sailors. 


On Board the Gladiator. 


39 


One story of Gordon’s I recall now. He 
was once on a ship, that was becalmed off 
the Sunderbunds, a group of low marshy 
islands at the mouth of the Ganges, in India. 
They are covered with jungle, and infested 
with tigers and serpents. Five of the 
crew got permission to go ashore to stretch 
their legs. They made their way through 
the bushes that grew at the water’s edge, 
a lascar or Indian sailor leading the way. 
While passing under the branches of a low 
tree a sudden rush startled them, and right 
before their eyes lay the lascar in the coils 
of an enormous snake. The fellow was as 
large around as a royal mast, and was a 
bright yellow in color, striped with black. 
It must have been fifty feet long. It seized 
the man by the shoulder, knocking him 
dow 4. and threw two great coils about him 
that covered the upper part of his body. 
Its eyes fairly glared with rage as it struck 
at the intruders, and it lashed the ground 


40 


On Board the Gladiator. 


with its tail, making the rotten branches fly 
in all directions. The first impulse of the 
sailors was to fly, but the wretched lascar 
gave a scream that awakened their cour- 
age, and they at once attacked the monster 
with their cutlasses and finally cut it in 
two. One of the men was crippled by 
a blow from the lashing body, and the 
lascar, more dead than alive, was dragged 
out of the coils. He lost the use of his left 
arm entirely ; the teeth of the snake had 
fairly crushed the bone. All hands at once 
hurried to the boat and got away from the 
horrid place. 

Brash, one of the Americans in our crew, 
said that he had been at St. Lucia, one of 
the Windward Islands, in a small brig load- 
ing cabinet woods, and while handling a 
stick of timber two of the men were bitten 
by a venomous snake, the “ Fer de Lance,” 
pecidiar to these islands. Both men died 
by night. The reptile was barely two feet 


On Board the Gladiator. 


41 


long, and was not much thicker than a 
man’s thumb, yet two powerful sailors were 
slain by a mere scratch from its fang. 

A few nights after this we had just come 
off the middle watch and were barely in 
our berths when bang ! came the handspike 
on the scuttle, and the startling cry, “All 
hands ahoy, quick, to save ship !” With a 
rush we were on deck. I was sensible of a 
strange, chilly feeling in the air, and, look- 
ing to the windward, I saw a wondrous 
sight. A pale ghost, arising out of the 
lashing waves, was backed by vapory towers 
and pinnacles that gleamed pallid and 
sheeny in the pale moonlight. It was an 
iceberg. Being in the lee of it the breeze 
had all been taken out of our sails, and we 
were ixp in the wind ; the canvas was slat- 
ting and flapping against the masts, and, 
while laying out on the yards, we could 
hear the strange sobbing sound made by 
the wind as it swept through the icy crags 


42 


On Board the Gladiator. 


and pinnacles, while ever and anon, with 
thunderous sound, some of the steel-blue 
ice points that seemed to sweep the clouds, 
came thundering down, churning the waves 
into foam. A strange, weird messenger this 
from the rude North ! Coming athwart 
our course, it was, according to our sailors, 
ominous of evil. If seen in the daytime it 
would have been less portentous. 

It did appear as if the midnight stranger 
was to bring us misfortune, for the next 
day a terrible thing happened. 

The New Yorker, Finnerty, was very ill- 
tempered, and much disliked. He espe- 
cially hated our black cook, and was forever 
quarreling with him. On this day when he 
went to the galley for his pot of tea, he 
commenced badgering “ Flukes,” and finally 
threw the scalding tea over him. The negro 
seized the long knife that he used to cut up 
the meat, and, with a yell, drove it almost 
through Finnerty, who staggered and fell 


On Board the Gladiator. 


43 


at Mr. Bailey’s feet. The negro was wild 
with rage, and told the mate to keep off, 
whereupon the second mate, Mr. White, 
knocked him down with a top maul. 

All hands rushed aft, and picked up the 
wounded man, who gave a groan and died. 
“ Flukes ” was at once ironed and lashed to 
a ring ball in the deck. 

None of the men blamed him when it 
was known how the quarrel began, and 
the cook, it was found, had been severely 
burned by the hot tea. He had always 
been civil to me, and when he asked for the 
loan of a pipe and tobacco, I spoke to Mr. 
White, and was answered, “Let him have 
it.” So here we were with a murder on 
board, and only sixteen days out. 


CHAPTER III. 


IN THE SOUTH ATLANTIC. 

A SHORT time after this we made some 
very bad weather, and had to reef our fore 
and mainto’-gallant sail and topsails. The 
man at the weather earing was a Yankee 
named Roach, and a good sailor. How he 
lost his hold no one knew, but he fell like a 
stone from a sling, striking the cat-head 
with fearful force, and then bounding over- 
board into the waves. The cry of “ Man 
overboard ! ” brought all hands up, and 
looking over the weather side, but the man 
probably died ere he struck the water. 
There was a rough sea on and it would have 
been twenty minutes before we could have 


44 


In the South Atlantic. 


45 


brought to and lowered a boat. This might, 
perhaps, have cost us more lives, so we kept 
on our course, and poor Roach was lost to 
our mess. 

When the watch went below one of the 
men silently made a roll of the dead man’s 
clothes and placed it in his bunk, and this 
and his empty berth was the only me- 
mento of his fate, for his name was never 
mentioned. It is not considered lucky to 
talk of dead messmates. Good or bad, 
neither their merits nor failings are dis- 
cussed. But it was generally admitted that 
the Gladiator was not a lucky ship, and 
some of the men made up their minds to 
leave at the first port made. 

I now, for the first time, saw the Southern 
Cross. It is. composed of four stars, and, a 
beacon to the mariner, floats in the blue 
tropic sky a thing of beauty ; the heavens 
glow with gems of light in these latitudes 
south of the equator, and their radiance is 


46 


In the South Atlantic. 


softer, I think, than the hard brilliancy of 
the Northern constellations. 

It was impossible to get along without 
the cook ; his mate proved of no good what- 
ever, and the crew voted his tea “ thin as 
muslin,” and the meat he gave us as “ tough 
as a buckstag.” So Flukes was taken out 
of irons and went to work with the under- 
standing that he would stand his chances at 
Rio. 

We were feeling the trade-winds now. 
We were making fair progress and running 
for the South American coast to correct our 
reckoning, when, early one morning, a man 
aloft sang out “ Land ho ! on the starboard 
bow ! ” In an hour we raised it, and what 
appeared like a bank of white clouds was 
seen looking curiously seamed and barred. 
I was gazing intently at this when Mr. 
Wright said, “ Them’s the Andes Mount- 
ains.” 

How grandly they rose in the clear air, 


In the South Atlantic. 


47 


their summits mingled with the fleecy, 
drifting clouds ! On their snow - white 
slopes, reflecting back the early morning 
light in long lances of Are, what seemed 
like old Spanish cities, a wilderness of build- 
ing, faded away into the rifts and chasms 
that divided the peaks. These were the 
first mountains I had seen since I left the 
Ridge, and I looked at the wondrous spec- 
tacle with delight until Mr. Bailey’s rough 
voice admonished me, in asking whether I 
intended to go aloft or not and overhaul 
the royal halliards. This broke up my 
romance, and I at once sprang into the rig- 
ging. 

We got our latitude and longitude and 
again bore south, and in forty-two days we 
sighted the Organ Mountains and cast 
anchor in the harbor of Rio. There is no 
place in the world more beautiful than this. 
The water is a deep blue, and the shores are 
green with tropic vegetation j the roofs of 


48 


In the South Atlantic. 


the city gleam red in the sunshine, and the 
mellow tones of bells sound across the 
water, as from the tall towers of the cathe- 
drals the Angelus is rung, while the fluted 
sides of the tall mountains give back a 
sweet and plaintive echo. 

My pleasant thoughts were soon inter- 
rupted by a row between the men and the 
first mate. They wanted liberty, and, in 
his usual harsh way, Mr. Bailey cursed them 
as a lot of “sogers,” and called away the 
gig crew. This was the two Swedes and 
myself. He lowered the boat, the captain 
got in, and off we pulled, and in half an 
hour made fast to the granite dock at Rio. 

I knew that at least five of the men in- 
tended to leave, but I was careful to say 
nothing about it, as I thought officers quite 
able to take care of themselves. 

Although the captain gave us strict orders 
to stay by the boat, one of the men left as 
soon as he was out of sight, and hunted up 


V 


Jn the South Atlantic. 


49 


a sailor boarding house runner who agreed 
to have a boat near the Gladiator at mid- 
night, to pick up the deserters. In a couple 
of hours the captain came down, and we got 
back to the ship, and found Mr. Bailey in a 
terrible rage. Flukes, the cook, was miss- 
ing. He was an old sailor, and familiar 
with the port, and one of the men had seen 
him go overboard, and he was supposed 
to be safe ashore ; as a matter of fact, how- 
ever, he was at this moment hidden in the 
fo’kesel. 

About midnight, sure enough, a boat 
came quietly under the bows of the ship, 
and Flukes and the five men went over the 
side like cats ; it was intensely dark, and 
they got safely away. When the starboard 
watch was called, only two men came on 
deck, and, in consequence, all hands were 
roused up. Mr. Bailey fairly jumped with 
rage, and he denounced the crew as a gang 
of malingering blackguards and pirates. 


50 


In the South Atlantic. 


Then suddenly seizing me by the neck, he 
cursed me for a blasted “ cabbage-cutter,” 
and “ grasshopper,” and declared that I 
knew all about the plot of the deserters. 
My only proper course was to hold my 
tongue, but I decided to speak up, and no 
doubt gave the mate some impudence. 
Bang ! came a thwack on the nose that 
nearly knocked me overboard, and when I 
went below I had two variegated black eyes. 
Gordon said, “ Look here, you greenhorn, 
rough words break no bones, and if we 
stand it, who are old sailors, there isn’t any 
use for you to get rusty. I don’t like 
Bailey, but he just served you right.” 
And, according to sea law and usage, no 
doubt my black eyes were no more than I 
deserved. 

In the morning the Brazilian police 
came off for Flukes, and were told he was 
gone, and nothing could restrain the men 
from jeering them. 


In the South Atlantic, 


51 


It was necessary to land some of our 
cargo, and we had to work hard getting up 
barrels of flour. The men were sulky, and 
the first mate followed the old-fashioned 
method of breaking them, by constant haz- 
ing and abuse. I fully expected an out- 
break, but, fortunately, Mr. Bailey fell into 
the hold and was laid up for several days, 
and under Mr. Wright things went much 
better. The second mate was always 
master, but he had a pleasant manner 
and was respected by us as a first-rate 
sailor. 

We got through our work, and were 
ready to sail in three days’ time. At night 
a boat came alongside, and five men came 
aboard. These were our new messmates. 
For a wonder they were all sober. All 
spoke English, and were stout, hardy-look- 
ing fellows. One, who was a middle-aged 
man, shipped as carpenter. He seemed to 
be a quiet, orderly sailor, but we could not 


52 


In the South Atlantic. 


tell much about the others until we should 
see them at work. 

At midnight all hands were called to 
make sail. After much heaving, the an- 
chor came up to the bows, and, under top- 
gallan’sail, topsails, courser, and jibs, and a 
spanking breeze, we soon sank the lights of 
Rio. 

It was evident that the men we had 
shipped at this port were a decidedly rough 
lot, and their quarreling made it very un- 
pleasant in the fo’kesel. Two of them were 
deserters from the English Navy, and they 
made good the old sailor saying, that “ A 
man-o’-war’s man is always a blackguard off 
a man-o’-war.” Another fellow, known as 
“ French Steve,” was a regular “ beach 
comber ” and cut-throat. He “ sogered ” 
about his work, and was constantly trying 
to stir up the watch to harass and oppose 
the officers. But he soon got into trouble, 
and for the last time in his life, too. 


In the South Atlantic, 


53 


One morning nearly all the watch on 
deck were sent aloft on various jobs and 

Steve ’’ was ordered into the hold to get 
a top block. No sooner did his head dis- 
appear below the combing of the hatch than 
the captain^, Mr. Bailey, and Mr. Wright fol- 
lowed him below. In a moment I heard a 
rush ; thei> cries and oaths. The French- 
man yelled to the crew to help him, but this 
would have been mutiny, and no one stirred 
aft. In a few minutes it was over, and the 
man was hoisted on deck senseless and 
covered with blood. Nor had the officers 
escaped. The captain had his leg nearly 
broken by a blow from the block heaved at 
him by the desperado, and Mr. Bailey was 
badly cut in the head. By morning the 
wretched man was dead : the side of his 
head had been crushed in. And as soon as 
this was discovered, he was thrown over- 
board without any ceremony. 

All this doubtless sounds frightfully tragic 


54 


In the South Atlantic. 


and cruel, but the truth was, that unless this 
man had been put down, the officers would 
have lost command of the ship. But I was 
so shocked by the cool, business-like man- 
ner in which it was all done, that had we 
have been in port I would have deserted. 
Of all the ships in which I ever sailed the 
Gladiator was the most unlucky, and I fully 
made up my mind not to come back in her. 

Several of the men swore they would 
have the first mate’s life, but this is com- 
mon talk in fo’kesels, and never means 
much ; but the 'crew grew sulky, Bailey 
hazed and abused all hands, and he there- 
fore worked under great disadvantages. 

With all canvas drawing we made good 
progress southward, and it was not until we 
got well below the mouth of the Rio de la 
Plata that we began to have bad weather, 
and all hands knew that we were approach- 
ing the stormiest and windiest region on 
earth. 


CHAPTER IV. 

‘‘doubling the horn.” 

Ip you ask any old salt what voyage he 
dreads most, his answer, without doubt, will 
be, “ Well, sir, rounding the Horn in the 
month of Jiniwary, is about the meanest 
and hardest experience a sailor man can 
have this side of the grave.” I once heard 
an Englishman giving his reasons why the 
Flying Dutchman darsen’t try these latitudes 
by way of variety. “ You see, mates,” he 
said, “ the devil’s no fool, and I take it the 
hottest place below is a cat’s-paw to this 
yer. Then, too. Old Nick wouldn’t meet 
any but Yankee skippers, and he’s sure o’ 
them, anyhow, so he’s no call to go heatin’ 


65 


56 


“Doubling the Horn: 


around this infernal windmill, but just stays 
where he can do the most good.” 

Away to the south lies that mysterious 
land known to fo’kesel yarners as “ Blue 
Flugen, where fire freezes.” This limbo is 
supposed to be inhabited by the shades of 
Down East clipper captains and mates. 
These shades, it is declared, suffer the keen- 
est anguish at being addressed as Tom and 
Bill, by phantom sailors who regularly, at 
eight bells, rig the gratings and give their 
^ former tyrants a dozen with a rope’s end. 

This unpleasant reference to American 
■ skippers as being especially obnoxious to 
seafaring men needs explanation. If you 
hear a story of brutal outrage committed 
’ on some foremast hand, whether perpetrated 
in China, on the burning slave coast, or in 
frozen Labrador, in nine cases out of ten 
you will learn that the principal is an 
American skipper. It is easy to give a 
reason for this ; there is, practically, no law 


“ Douhling the Horn! 


57 


for a common sailor in the ports of the 
United States. 

“ Jack ” is poor and friendless. If he 
makes complaint after being beaten blind 
and dumb he is forthwith locked up as a 
witness, while the captain or mates go free 
on bail. After a month’s detention the 
sailor finds his latter state worse than his 
first, and is glad to withdraw the charge 
and go to sea. In foreign ports he has no 
better chance of protection than has “a 
nigger between decks on board of a slaver.” * 

Our Captain Barnard was a large, stout 
man with a face like a cheese, and his ap- 
pearance and walk suggested imperturbable 
and petrifying dignity. He would occa- 
sionally glance at the compass, but I never 
heard him speak to a sailor on board his 
vessel. Indeed, he seemed to have very 
little to do with his officers, but left the 
management of the ship to his efiicient and 
peppery chief mate. Strangely enough, 


58 


“ Doubling the Horn' 


however, we all had an overmastering fear 
of the captain, induced, no doubt, by his 
sepulchral gravity. Any one that has ever 
been in the fo’kesel will remember how 
their lives have been made miserable by 
one or two persistent and indefatigable 
“ blowers,” and many a wooden-headed fel- 
low with no more mind than a “boiled 
duff” can get credit there for being deep 
and dangerous, simply because he has 
learned the trick of holding his tongue. 

“ Doubling the Horn ” confers a kind of 
brevet rank on the sailor. Even though a 
man may have made long voyages, his re- 
cital of peril and disaster will generally be 
met with the remark, “ Wait, my boy, till 
you reef topsails in a gale off Cape Horn, 
then you can talk about storms ; ” or, per- 
haps, “ 0 yes ! I understand ; ye think be- 
^cause you’ve seen Table Mountain with his 
night-cap on, and had a breeze that blew 
the sheet anchor into the foretop, and took 


Douhling the Horn." 59 

three men to hold the captain’s hair on his 
head, that you knows somefin. Well, ye 
don’t, and ye won’t, until you beat around 
in ice and snow and rain making stern 
boards for twenty days off the Horn.” 

And I was to have this experience now. 
The wind blew from all quarters at once, 
and with all our “ rags ” taken in except 
foretopsail, jib and spanker to help the ship 
to steer, we were driven to the east two 
hundred miles out of our course. The 
weather was awful : steel cold, with rain 
and sleet and snow all at the same time. 
The mates were on deck all day and night, 
and there was as much reefing and making 
sail as if we were on a Boston clipper. 
But, as befitted a Gladiator, our ship was 
stubborn, and hard to guide, and good sea- 
manship was thrown away in trying to 
make the old tub weatherly. 

What with the cold, the wet, and the 
hard work, we were fairly worn out, and in 


60 


“Doubling the Horn: 


three days what a horrid hole the fo’kesel 
was ! It was damp and foul-smelling at 
best, but now it was utterly unfit for any 
Christian to live in. The ship yawed so 
that all of our dunnage was adrift and noth- 
ing on top. The slush lamp, swinging from 
the carlines, gave a circle of pale light a 
foot in diameter, — just enough to show 
the worn, white faces of the men as they 
dropped into their berths, or, in sheer weak- 
ness, onto the chests. 

My hands were so nerveless that I could 
scarcely fill my pipe — my only solace. 
My mates were constantly asking me for 
“ a draw.” The ice, melting off our oil- 
skins, would soon put the place almost 
afloat, and any one coming in from the 
fresh sea air could barely get his breath 
in the foul atmosphere. But here we must 
rest our weary limbs for the next four hours, 
lying down in our wet clothes, and getting 
up shivering with cold. 


“ Douhling the Horn!' 61 

Of course this account of sailor life be- 
fore the mast will not do the rising genera- 
tion any harm. The race of youngsters, 
however, that went to sea in a spirit of 
adventure and romance has passed away. 
The young gentleman of to-day is too hard- 
headed,* and too maturely sensible to do 
anything foolish. Hard work and poor 
pay, even when associated with the grand- 
eur of the seas, and the glories of the far 
Eastern lands, will not tempt him. He is 
right, no doubt ; but if the lads who lived 
thirty years back had less training, and 
were not so intelligent, they had at least 
simpler natures, and more manhood. Their 
first ambition was not to get rich, but to 
see the world, and, with an enthusiasm and 
delight that no hardships could diminish, 
they looked forward to seeing the wonders 
of the deep, and the grandeur and beauties 
of far-away climes. 

I have heard both English and American 


62 


“ Douhling the Horn^ 


captains agree as to the difference between 
city and country boys. Give me,” said 
Captain Burton, “ a regular haymaker — 
green as a cabbage, and right out of the 
woods — before any city cub I ever saw. I 
can make a sailor out of such a one ; but 
the city fellow knows more than I do, and 
is cheeky and impudent, and more bother 
than he’s worth.” Such is my experience. 

We had now been ninety-eight days out 
of New York. On that day, being relieved 
at midnight, we had scarcely got below, 
and in our bunks, when “ bang ! ” came a 
handspike on the scuttle, and Mr. Wright 
yelled out, “ All hands turn out ! For your 
lives, men ! Be quick ! ” 

It was an awful night. It was so dark 
that even the snow that was driving down 
on us was invisible. The ship was plung- 
ing hither and thither with the canvas slat- 
ting and cracking as we dashed into the 
wind. “ Ice all around us, men ! Man 


Dovhling the Horn” 


63 


clew and buntlines ! Lay aloft, quick ! 
Furl maintop sail ! ” It was intensely cold, 
and my hands and feet seemed dead. The 
rigging was coated with ice, and fairly 
blistered when grasped. Up we go, the 
wind driving one flat against the ratlines ; 
out on the yard, slipping and sliding over 
the foot-rope ; looking down from the end 
of the yard, sight is lost in an unfathoma- 
ble abyss, black with shadows : here and 
there a streak of foam shoots like a sea 
bird across the darkness; the blast howls 
in our ears and fairly drives the breath 
back in our throats — and we seem to be 
plunging down to the world’s very founda- 
tions. “Every finger a fishhook now,” a 
faltering footstep or failing grasp and you 
are lost, — shattered, and torn, in this wild 
waste of waters. The sail is like iron 
sheathing, and our numb fingers can scarce 
break it into folds ; the gaskets are wire 
rigging, and we beat the icy canvas with 


64 “ Doubling the Horn.” 

our fists to make up the bunt ; in spite of 
the braces, the yards are plunging and 
banging, and, when we lay aft and get 
down, our limbs are wrenched and sore with 
our exertions to do our work and save our 
lives. 

But we are getting westward now, and, 
although the wind is drawing around to the 
south and east, the seas are heavier, for we 
are out of the lee of the land ; at times the 
water is fairly blown from under our keel, 
and the ship drops in the hollow of the 
heaving waters with a force that fairly 
makes us breathless. As the huge masses 
of dark-green waters, miles long, strike our 
bows they pour over the bulwarks, fiooding 
everything, and making us clutch for our 
lives, and so it was on through seventeen 
weary days of gloom and suffering. 

We were still favored in the wind, and 
our one hundred and twenty-first day 
out, Mr. Wright said, “ Well, men, we’ve 


Douhling the Horn.” 65 

weathered the Cape, and will have easy 
sailing now.” And he was right. We were 
lifting on the long rollers of the Pacific, 
and now, “Ho, for China and the Spice 
Islands ! ” 

On our starboard quarter the misty tops 
of the rocky backbone of the American 
Continent were yet to be seen through the 
clear blue air. This was the dominion of 
the storm king of this desolate south land, 
and my prayer that I might never again 
see these jagged sinister mountains would, 
I doubt not, have been echoed by every one 
on board. A cheer for brave De Lesseps, 
say I ; may his grand water way be a speedy 
success, and then let this “ Land of Fire ” 
be given over to the demons of the blast 
and storm. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE LAST OF THE GLADIATOR. 

Every sail was now set that could draw 
the wind : the Gladiator fairly jumped ; she 
took every sea squarely on her bows and 
walloped about like a mad bull. We had 
to take in our stun-sails, and at times were 
forced to reef the royals to keep her from 
diving under. 

The cook had told one of our watch 
that while in ice and snow off the Horn, but 
for Mr. Bailey we would have had a ration 
of grog, but the mate declared that we didn’t 
deserve it, as we were all “ a gang of lub- 
bers and pirates.” This made the men very 
angry, and, one night just as the watch was 
66 

\ 


The Last of the Gladiator. 67 

changed, some one threw a top-maul at the 
first mate, striking him in the back, and 
hurting him badly. He was laid up for a 
week. Of course none of the crew would 
give the officers any information as to the 
assailant, and the first mate got about again, 
looking pale, but determined and dangerous. 

Our water was scarce and bad, so we got 
into the trade-winds and made our course 
for Fannings Island, and came to anchor in 
Whaleman’s Bay. How beautiful it was 
both by land and sea ! The island was green 
with verdure, and for the first time I saw a 
palm-tree. I had been a dweller in the woods, 
and loved trees and flowers, so that I en- 
joyed looking at these more than anything 
else. There were several Englishmen here 
who led an easy and contented life, making 
a. little money by furnishing supplies to the 
ships that touch there. We rolled our casks 
ashore, filled them, and ate cocoa-nuts and 
yams until we were satisfied, and then, after 


68 The Last of the Gladiator. 

twenty-four hours’ stay, lifted our anchor 
and set sail. 

We passed desolate King’s Mill with its 
painted rocks, and many a lonely sand-bank 
just rising above the waves ; indeed, this to a 
seaman is the region of marvels. Here are 
seen mysterious reefs in mid-ocean, without 
soundings, a fathom’s length from their ada- 
mantine sides ; solitary islands on which 
no human foot has ever trod, barred in by 
coral barriers that catch the long waves and 
break them into foam. 

Sea traditions tell that a century ago many 
of these places were the resort of the pirates 
who infested the South American coasts. 
Here they brought their plunder and revelled 
in safety. A few years after this first voyage 
I was in a schooner bound to the Marguesas, 
and went ashore on an islet, about a mile 
around, and not down on the charts. Stroll- 
ing about I came upon the remains of a 
fortification, and there, buried in the sand, 


The Last of the Gladiator. 69 


was a Spanish gun, of brass, richly orna- 
mented at breech and muzzle ; I also dug out 
of the bank a long pistol with a handsome 
carved and mounted stock. Although the 
barrel was full of sand, it was still service- 
able, and on the flint lock was cut the name 
of its place of manufacture : “ Padua, 1758.” 
It was old enough to have belonged to 
“Blackboard.” or “Harry Gow.” How 
many deeds of savagery may have been 
wrought here ! If these ruins could speak, 
what tales might they tell ! The place 
seemed cursed with barrenness in these latter 
days, but there were remains of palm-trunks, 
and evidence that in other times it had been 
fruitful. 

There was nothing alive on the island 
but swarms of small black rats ; no birds 
flew over the accursed place, and we left 
it to the unclean beasts and iron ster- 
ility ; but human nature is ever the same. 
Ten years ago these seas were infested by 


70 The Last of the Gladiator. 


men quite as brutal and murderous as had 
been the buccaneers, “ the man hunters for 
the Peruvian plantations.” 

One of my messmates, named Carson, 
told me that he had been a sailor on the 
Spanish barque Rosa Patucio, hailing from 
Valparaiso. Her business was to kidnap 
the islanders, and one day they fairly swept 
Easter Island clean of inhabitants. They 
seized two hundred and thirty men, women 
and children, and of these, when they reached 
Callao, but one child was alive ; the rest, in 
sheer sorrow, lay down and died. The re- 
sult was, the voyage was a failure ; the 
captain tried to cheat the crew out of their 
wages, and a desperate attempt was made 
to take the ship, ending in the death of all 
the officers, and many of the men. 

If it were not for the omniscient British 
gun-boats, these seas might well be a terror 
to traders, as there are many out-of-the-way 
nooks in the multitudinous islands where 


The Last of the Gladiator. 71 

dreadful crimes could be committed with 
impunity. No arrests could follow, for 
within a few months or days the witnesses 
are scattered over the ocean, and, save in 
some sailor’s yarn in the fo’kesel, no record 
ever reaches the world : I have heard many 
such in my voyages. 

But the British authorities are now very 
vigilant and untiring in hunting down of- 
fenders against sea law ; I remember one 
case well, as I knew the offender. At a 
small island north of New Guinea, the Sidney 
ship, Samuel Owen, stopped for water. One 
of the crew was a Canadian, named James 
Lafarge : he was a giant in size and strength, 
and was turbulent and mutinous in conduct. 
The officers tried to punish him, but he 
succeeded in killing Captain Dalton and his 
first mate, and then escaped ashore. They 
could not lose time in hunting him, and sailed 
for Sidney and reported to the authorities. 
An English gun-boat left for the place at 


72 The Last oj the Gladiator. 

once, but found no trace of Lafarge. He 
had been taken off by a passing vessel. 

Eight years after this I saw him at Macao, 
and heard him tell of his exploit. Although 
his description was in every seaport, and 
though the police watched all arriving ves- 
sels, it was not until four years after that 
he was captured at Callao. He was easily 
identified by a huge scar that had almost 
divided his nose. Sent to Sidney, he was 
tried and hung. In all these twelve years 
Lafarge had travelled fifty thousand miles ; 
but the vengeance of the law was close at 
his heels, and overtook him at last. 

Our carpenter, Swainson, was a Finlander, 
and was full of old-world sailor supersti- 
tions : every thing with him was a sign ; the 
flight of birds, the rising and falling of the 
winds, and the drifting clouds were full of 
omens. He used to work out problems on 
a board with chalk, and tell us the result ; 
and he was no doubt sincere in his belief. 


The Last of the Gladiator. 73’ 


He told me that he had logged it down 
that some one of us would “ lose the num- 
ber of his mess ” ere the moon changed. 

ir 

He even showed me a mark in his almanac 
as the time when it would occur, and de- 
clared he could lay his hand on the man 
who would be lost. All this made the men 
nervous, and perhaps contributed to bring 
about the result. 

The second mate cursed the carpenter 
for a “ Jonah ” and “ Blue Light,” and 
threatened to throw him overboard if he 
didn’t stop his croaking. He advised him 
‘‘ to go ashore and take to coffin making ” ; 
but all this did not prevent “ Chip’s ” pre- 
dictions from coming true, and, strangely 
enough, before the moon changed. 

We were sent aloft at midnight to furl 
the mainto’-gallant sail ; the man at the 
weather earing had just passed, when, with 
a shout, one of the men called out “ The 
Corposant.” We looked aloft, and there. 


74 The Last of the Gladiator. 


just above our heads, were two balls of dull 
fire coming down the royal pendants. With 
a rush, every one sprang into the rigging, 
and, in the jostle, a man named Holmes 
was knocked off the weather-yard-arm. 
With a scream he fell full ninety feet, and 
struck the rail, crushing out his life at 
once. 

I well remember the shuddering horror 
with which I clung to the lee shrouds, for the 
man at the wheel had let the ship fly up into 
the wind, nearly shaking us all off. When 
we got on deck every thing was in confu- 
sion, but the ship was righted, and, looking 
aloft, I saw that our ghostly visitors had 
come down the chain to’-gallant sheets and 
were gliding along the yard. A dull, pal- 
lid light lit up the faces of the men as, in 
terror, they watched the gliding spectres, 
if “ the Corposant ” came lower there was 
more bad luck in store for us ; but, if aloft, 
then the worst was over. With a hop they 


The Last of the Gladiator. 75 

sprang to the topsail yard, and, moving in 
an elfish dance along the spar, they dickered, 
brightened, dashed, and were gone. 

No one moved or spoke until Mr. Bailey’s 
rough voice was heard calling to us to bring 
the dead man aft. No one moved, as his 
spirit would come back to the man that first 
touched the body. 

“You infernal lubbers! are ye afraid he’ll 
bite you ? ” cried the mate. “ Pick him up ! 
Here, take hold, Bonny.” 

The mate caught the poor battered head 
in his rough hands, and, with my help, laid 
the remains on the hatch. The captain came 
down, and, moving the body with his foot, 
ordered it to be thrown overboard. The 
after port was opened, some kentledge 
lashed to the feet, and, without a word of 
parting, our shipmate was launched into the 
sea. 

This ship was the only one I ever knew 
that disposed of a dead sailor in this brutal 


76 The Last of the Gladiator. 

fashion. On English merchantmen the 
practice is universal to sew up the body in 
a hammock, or old sail ; the captain takes 
his place at the head, reads a short burial 
service, and, at the words “ we commit his 
body to the deep,” the plank is raised, and 
the body slides off into the ocean. Our 
men were indignant at the captain and of- 
ficers for the disregard of common decency 
and sea-usage. 

The first mate was ever on the look for 
a chance to quarrel with some of us, and 
never gave a sailor a good word. Especially 
did he dislike Gordon, a stout English sailor, 
with a very bad temper, and, when aroused, 
a dangerous man. He was not afraid of Mr. 
Bailey, and the mate knew it. It was very 
galling to Bailey’s arbitrary nature to know 
that there was a common sailor on the ship 
whom he could not frighten, and he no 
doubt determined to provoke a quarrel and 
hurt Gordon. 


The Last of the Gladiator. 77 

One day, at morning watch, the mate 
called Gordon a “ skulker ” and “ soger,” 
about some work he had done; the sailor 
called Bailey a “ liar ” and “ slave driver,” 
and received a’ blow in the face. The next 
minute the mate was lying on the deck. 
He sprang up and drew his revolver, but 
under a shower of belaying-pins went down 
again, senseless. The alarm was given and 
the captain and second mate came forward 
armed. The cook and steward were or- 
dered to help, and they seized Gordon. We 
did not oppose them, but nevertheless tried 
to help Gordon by littering up the deck 
with ropes and blocks. The mutineer was 
finally secured and ironed and manhan- 
dled into the after hold. 

So we were two good hands short, and 
the rest well disposed to make trouble if 
an opportunity was given. 

Although still within the trades we had 
several sharp blows from the northwest. 


78 The Last of the Gladiator. 


and on the last day of September the sky 
to the windward looked very curious to me. 
Brassy clouds were apparently arising out 
of the sea and spreading over the sky, and 
I heard that long, low moan that is the pre- 
cursor of a storm in the Pacific : the sur- 
face of the water is cut by a wind that 
does not rise above it, but breaks the long 
rollers into gusty white foam. 

Our officers were evidently uneasy, and 
ordered sail to be taken in, preventer braces 
rigged, and everything lashed fast. 

The appearance of the heavens indicated 
something unusual, and Mr. Wright thought 
there had been volcanic disturbances near 
us, as, so he said, the queer metallic haze 
that filled the air and closed around the 
ship like a blanket, was a sure indication of 
such things. 

I was standing at the heel of the bow- 
sprit looking over the weather bow, when 
suddenly the mist parted as a curtain might 


The Last of the Gladiator. 79 

by the thrust of a giant hand. Through 
the rift came the storm : the clouds broke 
into fantastic shapes; for an instant there 
was dead stillness, then, like the trampling 
of a mighty host, the blast came on. We 
lay over until the lee yard-arm fairly 
touched the water ; as we righted the masts 
fairly sprung and our main course split with 
a boom like thunder and went to the lee- 
ward in long strips. 

Mr. Bailey came up now with his arm in 
a sling, and ordered the helm put down so 
we could run before it ; we lay our course 
due south. Looking aft, the waves seemed 
like a pack of gigantic wolves following 
hard on our track, with foam-flecked jaws, 
and red gleaming eyes. It was almost im- 
possible to breathe facing the wind, and 
ever and anon the sea would give a curious 
heave as if thrust up from below. 

“I believe the bottom’s coming up,” said 
one of the men. “ I know what that means ; 


80 The Last of the Gladiator. 

there is a volcano at work below, and we 
may find ourselves chucked into the middle 
of an island fust thing we know. I’ve seen 
seech a thing in these latitude not far from 
the coast of Java, three years ago, and a 
Dutch barque was left to dry on a sand 
bank that came up right under her keel.” 

We had to set our topsails to keep before 
the heavy seas- that came right over our 
taffrail. When we cast off the gaskets the 
wind filled the* sail and I expected to see it 
go right out of the bolt rope ; but, fortu- 
nately, it held, and we were fairly tearing 
through the water. The Gladiator was 
driving like a hunted animal, and as we 
were off our course no one knew where we 
were going; our ship was so tender that 
she yawed five points off, and the men at 
the wheel had hard work to keep their feet. 

Night came on; so dark that it seemed 
as if you could grasp it in your hands : the 
gale was growing worse. About midnight, 


The Last of the Gladiator. 81 


the carpenter, who was on the lookout, 
* yelled out, “ White water ahead, Mr. Bailey ! 
Breakers ; breakers on the starboard bow ! 
Starboard your helm, quick ! ” As we lis- 
tened we could plainly hear the deep boom 
of the surf breaking on the shore. 

We tried to wear ship, but no sooner had 
we laid hold of the braces than there came 
a crash and a shock, knocking every one 
down. The ship had struck, and down 
came the fore and maintop mast and yards, 
covering the decks. “ Quick, men ! cut 
away this raffle ! well be on our beam e^ds 
in a minute.” 

So sharp and quickly did we work that I 
forgot the first feeling of danger that had 
clutched my heart for a moment. Cutting 
the stays that held the mast, the wreck went 
to the leeward. As for the ship, her days 
were numbered. The dismal bump, bump, 
of her hull on the reef, was her death note 
to us all. 1 thought of Gordon, shut up in 


82 The Last of the Gladiator. 

the hold, and ran into the fo’kesel. Mov- 
ing a board from the forward bulkhead I 
entered the hold with our swinging lamp. 
Gordon came stumbling forward over bales 
and barrels, and we got on deck. I went 
to work with a club hammer and broke the 
chain connecting his irons, by battering it 
on the spare anchor which was inboard, 
and then we both mounted the weather 
rigging. 

“ She’ll break up in twenty minutes,” cried 
one man. “ No ship can stand this pound- 
ing,” said another. “ I’ve been wracked 
three times,” Gordon declared, “ but I never 
had a smaller chance for my life than 
now,” “ Blast the infernal old bucket ! 
we’ve had nothing but bad luck in her,” 
grumbled another sailor ; and this indeed 
was true. 

A few long, pallid streaks in the east told 
that day was breaking. The storm was 
steadily getting worse. Away went the 


The Last of the Gladiator. 83 

foremast ; we cut away the mainmast, and 
then all hope of saving our vessel was gone. 

Mr. Wright called out, ‘Ms Mr. Bailey 
forrard there ? ” “ No, sir.” “ Then he 

went over with the wreck of the foremast,” 
the second mate declared. 

It was true ; our peppery, hot-headed little 
mate was gone — and, frankly, I don’t think 
any one among the crew was very sorry. 

The vessel was gradually keeling over to 
starboard, and it was evident that if one of 
these long waves struck us squarely, every 
man would go overboard. The deck was 
almost straight up and down, and we hung 
on the remains of the rigging for dear life. 
The captain ordered the long boat to be got 
over the side. It was a terrible job, and 
when clear of the ship, and warping up by 
our line to take the captain in, it parted. 
The ship gave a surge, throwing our chief 
officer over the side. We tried our best to 
pull back, but the wind and current were 


84 The Last of the Gladiator. 

too strong, and that was the last seen of 
Captain Barnard. 

We were about a mile from land, but the 
surf was so high that we could just get a 
glimpse of the tall palms on shore. Mr. 
Wright told us that our only safety was to 
keep cool and pull hard at the right mo- 
ment with one sweep of the long steering 
oar. He brought the boat bow on to the 
surf which rose solid as a wall, and we 
dashed in. For an instant, we were envel- 
oped in the rushing water, but pulled for 
our lives, and got through. In five min- 
utes all danger was over, and, running the 
boat high and dry, all hands lay down on 
the hard sands, worn out and exhausted. 


CHAPTER VI. 


CASTAWAYS. 

When a merchantman is wrecked, the 
voyage is ended and the men are their own 
masters. Had Mr. Bailey come ashore with 
us he would soon have realized this ; but 
Mr. Wright was liked by all, and was as 
much respected and obeyed as when on 
board. He thought we had struck on one 
of the Ladrones Islands, and might soon be 
relieved, as we were in the track of the 
English and Dutch traders. 

But we must look for water, and if the 
wind went down we might save provisions 
from the ship. The poor Gladiator ! she 
was now on her beam ends, with the sea 
flying clear upon her. 


8& 


86 


Castaways. 


The island was well wooded, and not two 
hundred y3,rds from the shore was a grove 
of cocoanut-trees, and, better still, a spring 
of fresh water, so we need not fear starva- 
tion. 

Including Mr. Wright, we were seven in 
number. The rest of the crew had been 
washed overboard, but we did not notice it 
until we came ashore. 

I strolled up the beach alone, and was 
soon out of sight of the others in a bend of 
the shore. The wind was still blowing a 
gale, and the tall palms were lashing their 
tops like whips. The undergrowth was so 
thick that I could scarce break through it, 
and the spiders had woven webs that were 
almost as strong as a fish net. I bea.t a rapid 
retreat at the sight of a huge fellow almost 
as large as a humming-bird ; its body was 
covered with long hair, and it was, indeed, 
horrible to behold. 

I went back to the beach, and, looking 


Castaways. 


87 


seaward, noted something tossing in the 
broken white water. I thought it might be 
a chest from the ship, but as it came nearer 
and struck the inshore current, I saw it was 
the body of a man heaving and turning in 
the rough surge. I waded out until I could 
get a grip on the jacket, and drew the body 
on shore. Before I saw the face I knew 
well enough who it was : our first mate, poor 
fellow ! I remembered his advice to me, and 
his death was its illustration : “ to work hard, 
live hard, and die hard : such is the fate of 
a sailor.” His features bore their usual look 
of cold severity and hard defiance ; and, 
pulling him out of the reach of the lapping 
waves, I went back to report to Mr. Wright. 

Much wreckage was coming ashore, so, 
securing two bunks, he and I went up the 
beach, and, with a broken oar, dug a grave. 
Then we laid the poor fellow to rest, put- 
ting a barrel over his head and another at 
his feet. We did our best, and his bones 


88 Castaways. 

would not be left to dissolve in the harsh 
sea air. 

“ Stead, I have known him for twenty 
years, and an honester man or better sailor 
never stept a spar. Now, my lad, log this 
down for your benefit : there is not much 
in a life that means hard work, poor pay, 
and ends like this ; you drop it as soon as 
you can.” 

Before I left the island T carved on a 
board with my jack-knife, the words : “ Here 
lies James R. Bailey, an American sailor, 
lost, 1868 ; aged forty-two.” This I set up 
at the head of the grave, but who remem- 
bers him now ? 

Reckless and improvident as seamen are, 
they all have a hope and desire that they 
may lay in the earth with some record of 
their death above them. They hope, as 
they express it, “ to have a square-rigged 
funeral, parson and all.” English sailors 
believe that to bury a man without any 


Castaways. 


89 


service over his remains takes away his 
chance of salvation, and this is one reason 
why English captains are particular in hav- 
ing the usual sea service over those they 
bury in the ocean. 

Mr. Wright thought the island was prob- 
ably unknown, as cocoanut-trees generally 
attract a native population. This, how- 
ever, was an advantage to us, as the races 
that inhabit the Ladrones are born pillagers 
and pirates. 

The wind had gone down, and the air was 
delightfully soft and balmy. The sea inside 
the reef was as smooth as a millpond, and 
we had no trouble in picking up the bones 
of our unlucky ship. She was hard and 
fast, and at low tide her hold was almost 
clear of water. We were able to save a 
number of barrels of beef and pork, as also 
the arm chest and ammunition, the last being 
in waterproof tin cases, and in good order, 
and serviceable. The tell-tale compass in 


90 


Castaways. 


the cabin was also recovered, together with 
several charts, but our reckoning had been 
so badly kept previous to the wreck, that 
the charts were of little use to us. 

One morning Mr. Wright called the crew 
together, laid the situation before them, and 
asked what we should do. We all agreed 
to leave the direction of affairs to him, and 
promised to obey him. 

“Well, men,” he said, “in my judgment 
we are somewhere about fifteen hundred 
miles from the Philippines, and unless a 
ship was to pick us up, it would be a risky 
voyage to make in the long-boat. By the 
time we were all in her there wouldn’t be 
much room for provisions and water. Our 
course at the best is little more than guess- 
work, and the monsoons will come before 
long. In my opinion, we better weather it 
out here awhile rather than risk sailing at 
random, for at least a month, with so many 
chances against us. What d’ye say ? ” 


Castaways. 


91 


We all thought as he did, and it was de- 
termined to put up a permanent shelter at 
once, and then strip the ship. Fortunately, 
we saved the carpenter’s chest of tools, and 
from the wreckage made a very serviceable 
cabin, while after much diving and hard 
work we secured some of our clothing. The 
most valuable part of our cargo was sea- 
otter skins ; these were carefully dried and 
made into bales. They proved to be but 
slightly injured, and so it turned out that 
we brought ashore everything that could 
be of any use to us. 

The weather was lovely. The sea breeze 
blew from the east all day long, and tem- 
pered the tropic heats. I retained all my 
love for the woods, and persuaded Mr. 
Wright to let me take a musket and am- 
munition and go around the island. He 
cautioned me against losing my way, and, 
early in the morning, I started. After a half- 
mile tramp through the thick brush, which 


92 


Castaways. 


was alive with small green parrots, I came 
to an open space about fifty yards wide and 
as clear of trees and undergrowth as a turn- 
pike road. I was clever in wood-lore, and 
as the palm trunks were piled up on the 
sides I saw at once that this was the work 
of a hurricane. 

I was watching a beautiful scarlet bird 
with a huge bill, that was chattering near 
me, when I heard an odd noise, and looking 
westward I saw to my surprise and conster- 
nation several figures at the edge of the 
woods. They were short and black, and 
they hopped about in a curious manner. It 
was important to know something about 
them before reporting to my messmates, so 
I crouched down aird watched. Presently 
one of the supposed savages gave a mighty 
jump, and, catching a trailing vine, went up 
hand over hand in a style to make a sailor 
envious. I understood at once ; they were 
monkeys. Although I had never before 


Castaways. 


93 


seen one, I had heard my shipmates speak 
of them and describe them. At once I 
walked toward them, hoping as I went to 
attract their attention. 

They were not at all embarrassed, for they 
came straight at me, headed by an old fel- 
low that looked, for all the world, like 
Flukes, our runaway cook. Before I knew 
it, I was surrounded ; hairy paws were 
reaching out for me, and I really began to 
grow frightened. With a shout I fell back, 
so also did the monkeys, but only for a 
moment. The next instant they were after 
me ; my hat was jerked off, and then 1 
took to my heels. It was well enough as 
long I was in the open, but in the thick 
underbrush I was at their mercy, and it was 
only by swinging rny gun around, that I 
kept them off my back. And what an up- 
roar they made ! swinging by their tails, 
and clutching at me, they made my prog- 
ress far from pleasant. But at last I got 


94 


Castaways. 


through, and gave a yell that brought out 
all the men. They shouted at the sight, 
and, completely winded, I sat down to rest, 
while the monkeys circled around us, and 
jawed amongst themselves. 

“ That’s a good sign, men,” said Mr. 
Wright. “ Those monkeys wouldn’t act 
that way if they had seen human beings 
before. Don’t hurt ’em.” 

We undertook to surround and catch one, 
but made nothing by it, and one of the 
men, Carson, got a bad nip from one of 
the mothers that had a youngster hanging 
about her neck. 

I found that there were other natives on 
the island that were far more dangerous 
than the monkeys. I was at work clearing 
away the brush with a cutlass, to make a 
place for a water-cask, when I saw within 
a foot of my hand a snake about three feet 
long. It was curiously marked with yel- 
low circles on the back, like the links of a 


Castaways. 


95 


chain. I had seen lots of rattlesnakes in 
the mountains at home, and knew, from the 
shape of the head, that this reptile was 
venomous. It coiled itself in the shape of 
a figure S, and struck at me with its broad, 
flat head. I beat it down with a brush, 
struck a fierce blow at it with the cutlass, 
and killed it. 

Gordon came up and asked, “ What are 
ye thrashing. Stead ? ” I held up the snake. 
“ By jingo ! that is a chain viper,” he said. 
“ I have seen ’em in Ceylon. Now, how 
did that fellow get here ? They’re mighty 
bad neighbors, and one bite will kill a man.” 
I never saw but one more of these vipers 
while I was on the island, but I did find 
a long, thin green snake, that I believe was 
harmless. 

Whenever I could get away, I went off 
for a ramble. The monkeys were the only 
animals I ever met, but I was sure that 
there had been people living here at one 


96 


Castaways. 


time. There were posts standing on the 
west end, near the shore, that had evidently 
formed part of the walls of a house, and I 
found portions of a thatch of large leaves 
that, no doubt, had been used for the roof. 
The vegetation was grand ; I remember, 
especially, a red flower shaped like a lily, 
and almost as large as my hat. Still better 
than this, I discovered a number of bana- 
nas, growing in what looked almost like a 
cultivated garden. I brought back a bunch 
that weighed at least fifty pounds. 

These were received with great satis- 
faction, and we ate until we were tired. 
Europeans, howevei, soon get cloyed with 
this kind of food, and bananas are a poor 
substitute for bread. 

Makin was a Cape Cod man ; be kept us 
in fish, knitting a net out of cod-line saved 
from the ship. I never saw such an abun- 
dance of fish ; the sharks outside the bar 
chased the fish into shallow water, and one 


Castaways. 


97 


haul gave us enough for two days’ eating. 
Some of the fish were gorgeous in color, 
and strangely-shaped ; one, I remember, 
was striped black and red, and had a head 
like a hammer — widest at the nose. It 
was excellent in taste. 

One night we had an alarm, that, when 
explained, proved comical enough. One of 
the men rushed in, saying, “ There’s a 
drum beating off the island.” We went 
out and listened. Sure enough, the boom, 
boom, was plainly to be heard : it must come 
from some Malay pirate, cruising around, 
and intending to land. Arms were caught 
up, and all hands prepared for the worst. 
The sound came from the direction of the 
wreck, which they had evidently discov- 
ered, and were signalling to their consorts. 
While we were crouching down, peering 
through the darkness, expecting every mo- 
ment to hear the keels grate on the sand, 
and see the crews rush up the beach shak- 


98 


Castaways. 


ing their spears, Job Makin, our fisher- 
man, to the surprise of all, straightened 
himself up, and said, “Mr. Wright, that 
ain’t no pirates ; it’s a drum-fish, fast to 
the timbers of the ship. I’ve heard ’em 
lots of time in Canton River.” 

“ Why, Job, you’re right,” said our chief. 
“ What a lot of greenhorns we are ! I 
ought to have known it myself.” 

Sure enough, night after night we heard 
the noise. The fish fastens itself by the 
head, generally to the rudder stock, fills 
itself with water, and then expels it, mak- 
ing this curious drumming sound. 

Our carpenter, although a great croaker, 
was better acquainted in this part of the 
world than any of the rest, and was very 
shrewd in surmising. He pointed to the 
flight of birds ( generally parrots ), that 
seemed constantly coming and going, and 
always in a southeasterly direction. From 
this he argued that, as parrots are short- 


Castaways. 


99 


winged birds, in all probability the nearest 
land lay in the direction of their flight, and 
was, perhaps, not over thirty miles away. 
He also thought that we were much further 
south than we imagined. It proved after- 
wards that he was right. We had several 
times seen a tall column of smoke, south 
and east, and this, he explained, came from 
one of the Java volcanoes, but this might 
easily be five hundred miles away. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE TORNADO. 

All things by sea and land indicated a 
change. The ocean began to heave in long 
rollers, that broke on the beach with a noise 
like distant thunder, and birds and beasts 
retired to the thickest part of the jungle. 
We were none the worse for this, as the 
monkeys had been a great nuisance, coming 
to our camp early every morning, and turn- 
ing everything upside down. It seemed, 
indeed, as if they must have a direct and 
intelligent idea of mischief. One of the 
men had his jumper taken from the bush, 
where he had left it to dry. He brought 
down the patriarch with a heavy bolt that 


100 


The Tornado. 


101 


he heaved after him, whereupon the others 
took the hint, and let us alone. But they 
would still follow me in the bush, and jaw 
me roundly. 

From all these weather indications, we 
thought it wise to take precautions. We 
ran our boat up, and made it fast to a stout 
palm ; we also put additional supports to 
the house, and laid in fish and cocoa-nuts, 
for a time of need. The air was dead and 
sulphureous, and great banks of smoky 
clouds were forming in the south. 

I had captured a gorgeous paroquet, 
and the carpenter made me a cage. I 
could not tame the bird, however, and it 
would scream and bite, even when I was 
feeding it. 

One morning I found it cowering in the 
bottom of the cage, and called Chip’s ” 
attention to it. 

“ Well, my boy,” he said, “ that bird has 
his instincts, and knows there’s trouble 


102 


The Tornado. 


a-comin’. When you see one of the East 
Injy hurricanes, you’ll not forget it. I 
think we’ll have one soon.” 

About four o’clock the air became almost 
stifling. One of the men called our atten- 
tion to the water outside. A glance was 
sufficient ; we picked up whatever we could 
lay our hands on, and made for the grove 
of palms, some one hundred and fifty yards 
above high-water mark. 

Looking seaward, we had a wonderful 
sight. The water seemed to be boiling ; 
jets of foam sprang up, and twisted and 
twirled in cross-currents, like a man in in- 
tolerable anguish. Far away a line of surf 
indicated the track of the winds, and I 
though of the onset of a Tartar host bear- 
ing down upon its victims. Just then came 
a long sobbing moan, and then, with a crash 
and a roar, like the meeting of great navies, 
the storm beat down on the land. 

It struck the hidl of the Gladiator, and 


The Tornado. 


103 


threw it in the air, clear of the water, hurl- 
ing it so far inland that we feared it would 
come down on our cabin. When it struck 
the beach it went to pieces, like a pack of 
cards ; the cabin itself disappeared in a 
twinkling, and all at once, from the opposite 
direction (the west), came a thunderous 
blast that filled the darkening air with * 
timbers, tree-trunks, and all manner of 
missiles. Fortunately, these passed above 
our heads, as we lay clutching the ground, 
but the tops of the eighty-feet palms 
touched us as the wind beat them down to 
the earth. 

The water on the beach was driven back 
until the reef was bare ; the deadly hiss of 
the wind fairly took our breath away, and 
but for the protection of the trees, we would 
all have been hurled seawards, and battered 
and dead. 

I could just see the ocean beyond the 
drifting sand that had been driven up into 


104 


The Tornado. 


hummocks. The water was beaten flat and 
motionless by the mighty force of the wind. 
And thus for six long hours we lay, with 
the tempest shrieking above us, while its 
force was such that it was hard for us to 
breathe or speak. Such a watch I never 
went through before or since. 

About daylight the tornado abated, and 
we had a chance to get a little sleep. 
AVhen I awoke the mate asked me what 
had become of Makin, the fisherman ? I 
did not know, and started for the beach to 
look for him. Two days after his body 
was found under the timbers of our cabin, 
three hundred yards away. He had gone 
back to the house for something, when the 
tempest had caught him. Every bone in 
his body was broken, and his clothes were 
torn to ribbons ; such was the force of the 
wind. 

Our boat was uninjured, but covered over 
with sand. Nearly all of our provisions 


The Tornado. 


105 


had been blown hither and thither, the bush 
was full of dead parrots, and the greater 
part of the trees on the opposite side of the 
island were uprooted and piled together in 
wild disorder. The beach was covered with 
curious things washed up and in. In one 
place I saw the waters violently agitated 
and something floundering about. When I 
came within twenty yards of it, I knew that 
it was a shark. It proved a very monster 
— fully thirty feet long. I summoned the 
men, and, taking the carpenter’s broad-axe 
and a heavy boat-hook, we went back. The 
tide was running out, so we waited until 
the pirate would be on dry sand. Then all 
hands tackled it. How his tail flew around ! 
one blow from it would smash a boat to 
splinters. The safest point of attack was 
directly in front of his quoin-shaped head, 
and, after several attempts, I sank the axe 
up to the handle, and repeated it until I 
had cut the head nearly in two. But it 


106 


The Tornado. 


did not seem to hurt the shark, nor lessen 
his enormous strength. At last I got in a 
good blow across the back, and finally suc- 
ceeded in dividing the backbone, and ren- 
dered the brute harmless. He was gray- 
white in color, and when I cut out his jaw, 
I was amazed at the size of the teeth. 
Sailors prize the shark’s teeth highly, and 
frequently ornament them with ships and 
mottoes. “ Chips ” had one that he de- 
clared was more than a hundred years old. 
It was covered with circles, and triangles, 
and curious figures. My boy,” he de- 
clared, as long as I have that in my chest, 
no shark can take me down his hatchway.” 
Tlie backbone was cut out for cravat-rings, 
and the skin taken for various uses, it being 
excellent for polishing wood or bone, as 
it is as rough as a file. So you see we 
made good use of the terror of the seas. 

Four days after this a boat drifted ashore 
and was secured. It was fully fifty feet 


The Tornado. 


107 


long, and clinker-built. Mr. Wright pro- 
nounced it a Prahu, such as the Maylay 
pirates employ in their cruises. The mast 
was gone, but the step hole was there, and 
in the stern was the block for the swivel- 
guns these craft carry. Two lances, and 
a curious long and heavy sword, concave 
on one side, and convex on the other, lay in 
the bottom. The crew of the Prahu must 
have been washed overboard, or else she 
had gone adrift. 

As the boat was quite seaworthy, Mr. 
Wright put a mast in her and made a lug- 
sail. We tried her sailing qualities, and 
found that she could go before the wind 
like a sword-fish ; close to the wind, how- 
ever, her length told against her sailing. 

It rained incessantly now, and every one 
was tired of the island. Worse than this, 
our tobacco gave out, and there was noth- 
ing heard now but growling and discontent. 
Sometime before I had climbed one of the 


108 


The Tornado. 


tall cocoa-nut palms, and after much trouble, 
as I had “ to hang on with my eyelids, and 
work with my hands,” succeeded in lashing 
a stun-sail boom to the tree, and from this 
floated the ship’s ensign, union down. Any 
ship within five miles, could easily see it, 
and could run in and relieve us. 

All the men agreed to ask Mr. Wright 
to provision the Prahu and let us get off. 
He consented to do so if we were not re- 
lieved within a week, so w'e tried patience 
and yarn-spinning to get through the time. 

There was no part of the world our crew 
had not visited, and 1 learned more geog- 
raphy than a course in college would have 
taught me. While many of these stories 
were palpable lies, the greater part were 
true, and, to a landsman, would seem in- 
credible. But no fiction the human imagi- 
nation ever invented can be more strange 
than the adventures sailors are likely to 
meet with on the ocean. 


The Tornado. 


109 


Mr. Wright had been in a ‘‘ Spawter,” or 
whale ship, and told us many stories about 
that adventurous occupation. Years before 
he had sailed from Nantucket in the Stacey 
Mai’is. Her chief mate was named Carter,^ 
and he was famous as a whale hunter. 
Off the Brazil Banks, they lowered after a 
sperm-whale. Getting close on to him, 
the mate drove in the harpoon ; in an in- 
stant the whale turned on them, smashing 
the boat into chips, and killing two of the 
crew. Then it sounded, and disappeared. 
When the rest were picked up. Carter re- 
marked that he would know that whale 
again, as it had lost a flipper, and had a 
curious side-wake in swimming. 

The Stacey Maris then went round the 
Horn in time for the season on the line. 
Again they raised a sperm-whale, and low- 
ered for it. As they appi’oached the whale, 
it began to breech, and seemed indifferent 
to their presence. Carter, with an oath. 


110 


The Tornado. 


called out, “ Men, that’s the whale that 
smashed our boat on the Banks. He’s a 
wrecker, and we must have his hide this 
time.” 

The loss of the flipper could be plainly 
seen as the monster rose and fell with the 
long Pacific swell. Carter, with a fiery 
curse, drove in the harpoon, and the whale 
sounded, coming up in a short time directly 
under the boat, spilling the crew out, and 
smashing one poor fellow with a sweep of 
his mighty tail. Carter was caught in the 
line and taken under, but he cut himself 
loose, and the whale disappeared. 

Carter was a very profane man, and, on 
getting back to the ship, he swore that if 
he didn’t bring the whale tha.t had beaten 
him to the side, he hoped he might never 
find salvation. Even the hardy sailors shud- 
dered to hear the blasphemer. 

It was not until they sighted Java 
Head, on their way to the Japan fishing 


The Tornado. 


Ill 


ground, that the lookouts sang out ; “ There 
she blows ! There she blows ! Three p’ints 
on the lee bow ! ” Three boats put off, 
and, to the surprise of all, there was the 
same whale again they had met three 
thousand miles away. Carter darted his 
iron, crying out to the men, “ Beach me in 
the infernal whale’s spout hole ! ” But in 
vain ; the boat was wrecked, and the en- 
raged animal seemed to single out the mate 
amidst the ruins. He rushed clean over 
his enemy, but the other boats drove him 
off. 

The intrepid Carter was badly bruised 
and battered. He became moody, and 
brooded over his bad luck. One night he 
told Wright, who was second mate, that 
ere the year was out, he would tow that 
whale alongside. “ But it may be bad for 
me,” he said. “ I know I will kill him, 
but I’m not so sure about myself, but, 
Wright,” he added, “ I don’t care ; there 


112 


The Tornado. 


isn’t room in these waters for that bloody 
sperm and me.” 

Sure enough, off the Japan coast Carter 
raised this identical whale again, and, with 
a picked crew, went for it. “ We’ll strip 
his blubber to-night, curse him,” cried Car- 
ter. 

The mate darted his first and second 
irons, mortally wounding the whale. With 
one rush the great creature capsized the 
boat, and Carter was fouled in line and 
carried down. The captain put in another 
harpoon, and “ drove out the spigot,” for 
the monster began to spout blood, went 
into his flurry, and died. 

All the boats made fast, and drew their 
captive alongside. They rigged the cut- 
ting-in tackle, and when they began to 
trim the whale, as is usual in taking off the 
blubber, to their horror, the body of the 
first mate came up entangled in the line, and 
ia the whale was found all the irons that 


The Tornado. 


113 


Carter had driven into his enemy. The 
poor fellow’s prediction had come true, and 
there was room now in the depths for both 
of them : their duel was ended. 

One thing I remarked : in detailing their 
voyages, none of the men seemed ever to 
have met any of the chances for fortune 
that now and then come to the workers 
on land. Their lives were simple and un- 
varying records of danger, hardship, and 
unceasing toil, with intervals of relaxation, 
taken mostly in wasteful debauchery in 
port, temptations not less perilous to life 
and limb, than the dangers of the sea. 

Chips ” alone had once a call from for- 
tune. By some means he came into posses- 
sion of a ten-ton sloop, and, with a crew of 
three Kanakas, went out to the Sandwich 
Islands, shark-fishing. It was a short cut to 
affluence, as sometimes, when his luck was 
good, he made ten dollars clear in a week, 
selling the teeth and hides, but his venture 


114 


The Tornado. 


came to naught in this wise : One day they 
hooked a monster, not less than thirty-five 
or forty feet long. He must have lived on 
old sailors, so cute was he in nautical mat- 
ters, for, as soon as hooked, he clove-hitched 
the line around his tail, to make towing 
easy, and steered a straight course^for the 
Horn, intending, no doubt, to visit his rela-/ 
tions off Cuba. 

“ Well,” said “ Chips,” “ I made a drag of 
all the buckets we had, but it was no use. 
We went flying through the water like a 
tin kettle tied to the tail of a mad (^og. 
Sometimes we went clean under for half a 
mile, and then with a flirt the cussed brute 
would fire us away out of the water. I 
got tired of it at last, and, lashin’ a cask 
fast to the line, I cut loose. I thovTght I 
had got about square, in making him tow 
that bar’l around the world. There’s a 
mighty sight o’ devilment in sharks, how- 
ever, and this one just spiled my fishing in 


The Tornado. 


115 


them waters. Just as soon as I could get 
my lines out, slam ! would come that in- 
fernal cask banging about, and every shark 
would leave. I couldn’t make the tobacco 
for myself and crew, and one day 1 made 
up my mind to come aboard. So 1 rammed 
the sloop on the beach at Owahi, and 
busted her bottom. And that’s the way I 
missed stays. Boys, fust it come from 
fishin’ on Sundays ; and next, I had a row 
with an Obiman on the island, and he put 
that shark up to ruin my business : that 
was it, just ! ” 

We refrained from eating our ship-stores, 
so that we could provision the boat, and to 
men accustomed to strong food, the cocoa- 
nuts and bananas soon became monoto- 
nous and distasteful, and we were thor- 
oughly tired of life. 

The day before we were to leave the 
Island, one of the Swedes made our hearts 
leap up with the cry of, “ Sail, ho ! There’s 


116 


The Tornado 


a ship in the offing, Mr. Wright ! ” He 
examined her with the glass. “ She’s a 
steamer, men,” he reported. ‘‘ Barque- 
rigged, and a Dutchman, 1 think. She 
sees our signal, and alters her course.” 

Slowly we raised her mainyard, then her 
rail, and about three miles away she came 
to and sounded her whistle. 

“ Come, men, man the long-boat,” said 
Mr. Wright, “ and let’s pull out to her. 
This is a bad place, and she won’t come 
nearer.” 

We had given our boat a cat-rig, and 
tumbling into her, we set sail, and pulled 
manfully. When we got alongside we 
found her a German, bound to Batavia and 
Hong Kong. She was the Schiller ; Cap- 
tain Yost. He agreed to take us aboard, 
and we could pay our passage with the furs 
we had saved. 

We put all our possessions into the long- 
boat, and with her gunwale just above the 


The Tornado. 


117 


water, left the island. For myself, I must 
say I left it with regret, and many a time, 
long after, when wearied with hard work 
and usage, and worse luck, I wished my* 
self back there, under the shadow of the 
palms. 

The Germans were very kind. We found 
that “ Chips ” was right in his calculations, 
as we were at least eight hundred miles 
south of our true course ; in fact, we were 
not over two hundred miles north of New 
Guinea. If we had landed at that place, 
there is very little likelihood that this 
record would ever have been written, for I 
who tell it would probably have gone to 
nourish some of the cannibals who make 
that unknown land a terror to sailors. 

Although we were passengers, we had to 
go forward and mess with the crew. Our 
quarters were indescribably grimy and 
filthy ; indeed, this is the case in most of 
these mercantile steamers, and, as square- 


118 


The Tornado. 


rigged sailors, our men affected an immense 
superiority over these “ Dutch scowhanks.” 
But, if the quarters were bad, the “ grub ” 
was simply disgusting, and explained the 
frequent assertion of our men, that captains 
prefer German sailors and foreigners gen- 
erally, “ because they are cheaper to feed.” 
Our food was always stewed, and the only 
thing in its favor was, that it was various 
in taste and smell ; ranging generally from 
bad to worse. Of course the more we 
talked about it, the more unsavory it be- 
came to us, until one day there came a 
crisis. 

“ Chips” was always the first to examine 
the mess kid,” turning over the contents 
with the point of his knife, and making 
comments thereon that generally took away 
our appetites. One morning, after a close 
overhauling, he fished out a bone, and, in a 
voice like a death-summons, pronounced it 
part of the jaw-bone of a man. With a 


The Tornado. 


119 


yell, every one sprang to his feet, to the 
terror and surprise of our German friends. 
“ Chips ” had a taste for anatomy, and kept 
in his chest an old work on “surgery,” 
with dingy plates. This was brought out, 
and, after much talk, he pointed out re- 
semblances. “ Yers yer molars, yers yer 
eye-tooth,” he said. 

I suggested that we had better wait. 
“ Perhaps to-morrow,” I told them, “ we 
may get the head.” I was ordered to 
“ shut up for a bloody fool and greenhorn,” 
and let my betters decide this, so slowly 
we followed Gordon and the accusatory 
bone aft, and called out Mr. Wright. He 
came. Gordon’s attitude was fine. It im- 
plied all due respect for our officer, com- 
bined with a firm determination to man- 
hadle all the Dutch in Holland unless our 
wrongs were redressed. 

“Mr. Wright, it ain’t unbeknown to 
you what these yer Jarmins eats,” said 


120 


The Tornado. 


Gordon. “Well, sir, we’ve stood their 
slush as long as we’re a-goin’ to. We’ve 
got away with biled dog, sir, but we puts 
the nippers on when it comes to eatin’ a 
man,” and thereupon the bone was pro- 
duced. 

“ Hum,” said Mr. Wright ; “ well, men, go 
forrard and behave square, and I’ll make 
other arrangements.” 

He did, and we were soon pleased to learn 
that our own beef and pork that we had 
brought on board, were to be served out to 
us. Old “ Chips,” by way of showing his 
satisfaction at the change which he had 
attributed to his own shrewdness and diplo' 
macy, overate, himself, and got sick. Mr. 
Wright gave him a dose of medicine (that 
he afterwards said was strong enough to 
work a ship) and, for a spell, “ Chips ” grew 
worse. 

He kept us all awake with his groans, 
asserting that his “ innards was all belayed.” 


The Tornado. 


121 


I thought it served the old growler right, 
and did not pity him in the least. 

In sixteen days we came to Batavia, 
where we separated: Mr. Wright, Gordon 
and I taking our chances on an English 
barque, the Simorrie, bound to Hong Kong ; 
Gordon and I worked our passage, while 
the mate went as passenger. The captain. 
Bent, was a quiet man, and took things 
easy, but his Scotch first ofiicer was'a tartar, 
and by no means up to the standard of such 
sailors as Mr. Bailey, and Mr. Wright, so 
that we were fifty days in getting into our 
port. 

Gordon, upon going ashore, got drunk, 
and, meeting the mate, gave him a terri- 
ble beating. For this he was arrested and 
sent to jail for ten days ; his being an 
Englishman, saved him from a long sen- 
tence. 


CHAPTER Vm. 

A BATTLE WITH COOLIES. 

All Hong Kong was in gala dress to 
welcome the Duke of Edinburgh, who had 
come there on the Galatea gunboat. After 
a short stay here, in company with Mr. 
Wright, I crossed over to Macao, about 
fifty miles south of Hong Kong. 

This is an old Portuguese city, and was 
once the chief seat of Portugal’s power in 
the East. What little trade it now has, is 
in the hands of English merchants. The 
present race of Portuguese is made up of a 
miserable set, and are known by English 
and Americans as “Torpids.” They are 
very profligate ; are debased by intermixture 


122 


A Battle with Coolies. 


123 


with the natives, and, when old, closely 
resemble Madagascar monkeys. 

The place is full of churches. Bells are 
jangling from morning till night, and the 
men and women seem to do little else than 
make their devotions, as service is going 
on hourly. There is a decayed and mouldy 
look about everything, but the long rows 
of massive hongs, or warehouses, tell of 
former enterprise and prosperity. 

The European Quarter is comprised in 
one short street, and then the native town 
commences. The streets are mere narrow 
lanes, murky with yellow gloom, and filthy 
beyond description. Everywhere you de- 
tect that thin, pungent, penetrating odor, 
that is found in all quarters where the 
natives congregate. The Englishman was 
right when he assured a new arrival, who 
had the usual ottar-of-roses idea of the 
East, that there was but one scent there, 
“ and that was not a perfume.” 


124 


A Battle with Coolies. 


The native jams,” or grog shops, were 
in full blast, and sailors were laying around 
drunk and noisy. They were nearly all 
Englishmen ; neither German nor Italian 
sailors debase themselves in this way, and 
this, no doubt, is why shipmasters prefer 
them. 

I think, however, the meanest and worst 
class I have ever known as seamen, are the 
Greeks, who are getting to be quite com- 
mon in the East. They are, without ex- 
ception, the most undesirable messmates a 
man can have on a ship. They are filthy 
in their habits, and are thoroughly treach- 
erous and unreliable. 

The opium dens were horrible. I re- 
treated in dismay from the place, and 
quickly made my way back to Mr. Wright, 
returning him the dollar he had given me 
as spending money. 

The coolie trade was quite brisk, and 
the barracoons, or granite warehouses, 


A Battle loith Coolies. 


125 


heavily barred and guarded, were full of 
men awaiting passage. There was a large 
ship lying here, called the Pandour. She 
had Austrian papers, and came from Trieste, 
but she was chartered and manned with, 
English officers and crew. Her freight 
was to be coolies, and she was going to the 
coast of South America. Mr. Wright was 
offered the position of first mate, her for- 
mer officer falling overboard while drunk. 
He asked me to go with him, promising to 
rate me as an able-bodied seaman, which 
indeed I was. He told me that it was not 
a pleasant service, but I would get eighteen 
dollars per month, and that appeared to 
me a great deal. I liked Mr. Wright, and 
determined to stay with^ him as long as I 
could, so I went on board the Pandour and 
commenced to clean ship. We scrubbed 
and scraped her inside and out, and holy- 
stoned the decks until they were as clean 
as a Quaker. There were forty-four men 


126 


A Battle with Coolies. 


before the mast, all stout and good sailors, 
but very rough, as indeed the service re- 
quired. Before we sailed, however, Gor- 
don came on board and we got in the 
same watch. Hard as he was, it was a 
relief to have a friend amongst so many 
strangers. 

After taking in stores, mostly rice and 
dried fish, for the coolies, our living freight 
itself was brought aboard, well guarded. 
The authorities seemed to exercise all care 
to prevent any of the coolies from being 
kidnapped, as was often the case. Every 
man had his article ; the food was inspect- 
ed, and, between decks, measured and ex- 
amined, according to law. As the China- 
men were passed down into the hold, 
they were searched separately for con- 
cealed weapons, but subsequent events 
proved that they were more than a match 
for us, and no doubt every one of them had 
a knife or kreese hidden about him. 


A Battle with Coolies. 


127 


We left Macao July, 1869, with three 
hundred and twenty-six of these men on 
board. The officers knew all about their 
cargo. On the quarter deck was a twelve- 
pound howitzer, on a light iron carriage ; 
cutlasses and belts were served out to the 
men, and we were commanded to wear 
them constantly, and be vigilant, and never 
off our guard. 

There was a sentry with musket and 
bayonet at each hatchway, and I have 
spent some hours on guard, watching the 
coolies smoking, gambling and quarrelling. 
Before we had been two days out, three 
men had been killed. The coolies came 
from different parts of the country, and 
were divided into clans, hating each other 
savagely. 

As the dead men had evidently been 
stabbed, Mr. Wright recommended that a 
thorough search should be made for their 
weapons, but Captain Bonnet was a fearless 


128 


A Battle with Coolies. 


giant, and was confident that we could 
master them, weapons or no weapons. 

Once every day the second mate, with 
eight men, armed with cutlasses and revol- 
vers, went into the hold to inspect it. 
We took such precautions as men do who 
enter into a den of wild beasts. Gordon 
had made three voyages in ships of this 
kind, and told me that he had never seen a 
stouter gang of Chinamen than these. He 
learned from the Chinese cook that they 
were mostly from the North ; a far more 
vigorous and courageous class than the 
Southern “Johns.” 

Off Formosa Point, we struck head winds 
and were kept wearing and tacking for a 
week. The daily routine was this : The 
cook, John Lung, was kept busy prepar- 
ing a ration of fish and rice for the coo- 
lies ; the grating was taken off the hatch, 
and the guard hailed below, “ Chowchow, 
Johnnie ” ; two of the men came up, and. 


A Battle with Coolies. 


129 


going to the galley, obtained the kids. 
These they carried to the hatch, where 
others received them and took them below ; 
a supply of water was lowered, the grating 
secured, and the guard changed. This was 
done twice a day. 

No man on board was more vigilant than 
I was. I was afraid of our passengers: 
there was something uncanny in their dead 
yellow faces and sullen eyes full of a dull 
fire that glowed under the heavy brows ; 
they were big men, too, and quite a match 
in strength for the average European. 

On the morning of the fifteenth of July 
we were in a dead calm, in plain sight of 
Formosa. The cook had filled four kids 
with rice, and two with boiled fish. The sen- 
try removed the grating, while another man 
let down the companion steps and then 
hailed below. As usual, two of the coolies 
came up and stopped at the galley, chin- 
chinning with the cook. 


130 


A Battle with Coolies. 


I had been sent aloft to overhaul a top- 
sail block that had got fouled, and stopped 
for a moment in the lower rigging to shift 
my cutlass behind me. Mr. Wright was 
strapping a block for a sailor, when I 
plainly saw one of the coolies make a 
stealthy movement toward him, with some- 
thing bright in his hand. I shouted, but it 
was too late; the keen knife was driven to 
the hilt in my poor friend’s back, and he, 
no doubt, died Avithout knowing what killed 
him. The pirate made a thrust at the 
sailor, but Mason was quick and resolute. 
Tearing up the heavy block, he brought it 
down on the Chinaman’s head, .smashing 
it in, and making him harmless : the ship’s 
bell was struck rapidly, and this brought 
up the captain and all hands. In the mean- 
time the other coolie had reached the hatch 
as his companion killed the mate. He 
struck the sentry a powerful blow in the 
neck, knocking the man head foremost into 


A Battle with Coolies. 


131 


the hold. The other sailor at once ran the 
murderer through the body, and yelled for 
help to put on the grating. But he was 
too late ; in the after hold were some spare 
spars, and the coolies bringing four of these, 
set them up in the hatch, thus preventing 
the grating from being rigged. In fact, 
the movement was well planned. Then 
they swarmed up the companion steps. 
Foster fought like a tiger, but was shot 
dead by a ball from the sentry’s musket, that 
had fallen into the hold, and in a moment 
fifty of them were on deck. The boarding 
pikes which were lashed to the spanker 

boom, were cut away by the steward, and 

* 

passed on deck ; the muskets under the 
break of the quarter deck were snatched 
out of the racks, and not a moment too 
soon ; for the Chinamen fought like demons, 
not shouting, but making a sound like the 
low growl of some ferocious beast. 

We cheered and charged them, hewing 


132 


A Battle with Coolies. 


and slashing them down, trampling and 
stumbling over their bodies. Even while 
dying, they thrust with their knives, and, 
amongst others, I got a bad cut in the leg. 
None of them tried to get back in the hold, 
but rushed forward, and as we secured the 
hatch, four of them ran into the fo’kesel, 
and fairly cut in pieces one man who lay 
there sick in his berth. The others ran 
out in the jib-boom and hacked at the 
stays, and some sprang overboard. Several 
volleys of musket shot cleared the boom, 
and then, save the dead, we had the deck 
to ourselves. 

The blood was fairly running in the 
scuppers. Nine of our crew were killed, 
and half of us cut more or less severely. 
My leg was very painful, as their knives 
were no doubt dipped in something that 
made our wounds smart and burn dread- 
fully. We lost sixty-two of the coolies, in- 
cluding those that had committed suicide. 


A Battle with Coolies. 


133 


The captain said that we must get the 
pirates out of the fo’kesel, and went below, 
cutlass in hand, followed by several men 
with pikes. IVe found our dead messmate, 
but the Chinese had forced a board off the 
bulkhead and got through into the hold. 
What an escape for us ! had they done this 
at night, none of the watch below would 
have escaped, and the ship would have been 
taken. 

While we were clearing up and secur- 
ing the damaged rigging forward, the 
second mate was peering down through 
the grating. Suddenly he called out that 
he smelt lire ; and, on running to the 
fo’kesel scuttle, I found that the place was 
full of smoke. The desperate ruffians had 
set the ship on fire, taking the chances 
of being the first to burn. The engine 
was rigged, and the hold and fo’kesel del- 
uged with water, but the fire was increas- 
ing. The grating was removed, and the 


134 


A Battle with Coolies. 


cook sent below to speak to the coolies. 
He came back with the information that 
the greater part of them were in the after 
hold, but some twenty were forward, and 
sent up word that “ let sheep burn ; alle 
samee; they don’t go care dlam.” There 
was nothing for us to do but rush below 
and kill the fighting men, or let the ship 
burn under us. So, headed by the captain 
and mates, we made a rush and a jump, and 
were down. The hold aft was crowded 
with those who had submitted. They 
seemed thoroughly cowed and crouched 
down flat on the deck. I shall never for- 
get what we saw forward. The draft of 
air from the hatchway drove the smoke 
toward the bows and through the fo’kesel, 
while dull flashes of flame showed that the 
timbers were glowing with fire. No time 
was to be lost. Through the reek we 
could dimly see the forms of the despera- 
does who were ready to burn, rather than 


A Battle with Coolies. 


135 


submit. They yelled deafeningly, brand- 
ished the weapons and then made a charge. 
We met them with a crashing volley and 
finished them in the blinding reek with 
pike and bayonet. 

Had the rest of the^ coolies been as brave 
and determined as these, not one of us 
would have left the hold alive. 

The hose w'^as brought down, and in half 
an hour the fire was put out. All the 
fo’kesel bulkheads were burned, and our 
bedding and clothing destroyed. We 
counted the coolies, and found two hundred 
and forty-six left ; so, that, including those 
who had jumped overboard, the mutiny had 
cost us some seventy-five of our passengers. 
As we were fifteen miles from land, it was 
not likely that any of those who took to 
the water saved their lives. 

We hammocked and lashed our own dead, 
and one by one committed them to the 
deep, — a wandering and fathomless grave. 


136 


A Battle with Coolies. 


Poor Mr. Wright ! In all my voyages I 
never met a shipmate as good as he. A 
staunch friend, and a first-rate sailor; he 
deserved a better fate. 

Our captain was disgusted with coolie 
service, and swore he would never have 
such a freight again. He decided to re- 
turn to Macao for repairs. Had Mr. 
Wright’s orders been observed, and the 
grating secured at meal time, much of this 
slaughter would have been avoided. 

After a short voyage of fifteen days we 
found ourselves just where we started from 
— less the poor fellows who had been 
killed in the fight. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A FOKTUNATE ENCOUNTER. 

Our return caused quite a sensation, and an 
investigation by the British Consul, brought 
out the following facts : Four or five months 
before the Pandour sailed, a gang of land 
and river pirates had been broken up, and 
a large number of their company taken. 
The thrifty Chinese officials saw a chance 
to turn a penny, and contracted with De 
Sousa, the Portuguese coolie comprador, 
to take these ruffians as emigrants, the 
bounty being divided amongst themselves. 
I believe they got ten dollars a head for 
the men. As these escaped the death pen- 
alty, and antecedent torture and starvation. 


137 


138 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


they were supposed to be satisfied, but they 
were not ; hence the attempt to take the 
Pandour. 

I had been so accustomed to look up to 
Mr. Wright, that I was at a loss what 
to do. I had a little money, which I 
knew would not last long. One of my 
late shipmates, an Englishman, named 
Mason, was about to take a berth as second 
mate, on a country ship, trading between 
China and India. He asked me to go with 
him, and aboard of the Malabar I went. 
A curious old craft she was. Her bows 
were as square as if sawed off, and, being 
built of teak, she was innocent of paint. 
Everything about her was antiquated, and 
her bowsprit was steved up like a spanker 
gaff, but she was very strong, and proved a 
very fair sea boat. 

But Captain Raven was a greater curios- 
ity than his vessel. He was as long as a 
span topmast, and as dry. His curiosity 


A Fortunate Fncoimter. 


139 


was insatiable. He asked where I was born, 
how long I had been to sea, etc., and he 
would even come forward and chat with the 
men. He was a Bombay Duck,’’ as the 
natives of that detestable town are called, 
and spoke as they all do, in a sputtering 
voice, as if his tongue was too large for his 
mouth. 

An American named Bowen, a very dry, 
taciturn man, was chief mate, and Mason, 
another Yankee, named Bunting, and my- 
self made up the European crew. All the 
others were lascars. They are good enough 
to heave and pull,” but are worthless in 
emergency, and sailors don’t care to ship 
with them, for the reason that in a gale 
they are worth very little aloft, and this 
puts all the hard and dangerous work on 
the few white men. 

We roused up our anchor and made sail 
for Shanghai and Madras. Such an uproar 
as the lascars made ! The tindal, or native 


140 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


mate, led off in the riot. On American 
and English ships the modern custom is to 
do the work with as little bawling as pos- 
sible, and on an English man-o’-war half the 
orders are given by signal, or gesture, while 
the boatswain’s pipe is almost silenced. 

Our captain was a Baptist, and no doubt 
a good man. It was his custom to ask 
every one of his English crew “what was 
their releegion.” The general answer was, 
“ I ain’t got any ; hav’n’t time.” Bunting, 
the American, was a graceless dog, but very 
bright, and well educated. He used to baf- 
fle the captain with his answers, and nearly 
drove him wild. At last he admitted that 
he was a “ Smithsonian,” whose rule was, “ if 
they saw anything they wanted, to take it,” 
and who believed that hereafter “ every- 
thing would be reversed ” . Captains must 
serve before the mast, and sailors would 
walk the windward side of the quarter-deck, 
and handle the belaying-pins at discretion. 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


141 


He added a lot more such stuff. At all 
this the captain indignantly protested, and 
the discussion would go on, until, at last, 
Bowen, the silent mate, said to his chief 
officer, “Your place is aft, sir; you’re in-^ 
terfering with the work here.” This was 
said in a voice like a mad bull’s. Indeed, 
all these country skippers are oddities ; 
making short voyages and being much on 
shore, they are seldom good seamen. 

In sixteen days we ran into Shanghai 
creek, and taking a “ fifteen-foot pilot,” 
came up to the dock at the “ Tea City.” 

Nothing indicates the strength and en- 
durance of the English rule in the East 
better than the character of the improve- 
ments they make : everything is solid and 
imposing. The warehouses and public 
buildings in Shanghai and Hong Kong 
are massive enough to defy an earthquake. 
The rich foreign merchants are princes in 
their deportment and style of living. 


142 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


Surrounded by vast numbers of servile 
dependents they are very arrogant and top- 
lofty in their dealings with outsiders. Tak- 
ing a letter to one of them, I was told very 
roughly to “stay outside and wait for an 
answer,” to which I responded “ that he 
could bring the letter himself,” and walked 
away. Sailors have to take bad language 
at sea, where they can’t resent it, but on 
shore they will stand none of it. 

I had an adventure here that promised 
to give me a chance to better my condition. 
Mason and Bunting started off on a spree, 
and asked me to go along, but I refused ; 
I had heard too much of the penalties of 
indulgence in Chinese tipples. Liquor here 
is cheap and deadly ; the samshee or bean 
brandy sold in the dramshops brings on de- 
lirium and death to foreigners. I had seen 
Gordon under its influence in Macao, and 
his great strength so reduced that a child 
could have held him. Sailors say it is dis- 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


143 


tilled from “ tobacco and fishhooks,” and 
the taste is nauseous, like bilge-water. I 
don’t think the natives themselves use it at 
all as a beverage, but distill it solely for 
sailors’ use. 

As the lascars did all the work in port, 
I had time to walk about ; so one after- 
noon I started off to see the native quar- 
ter. As I passed up the narrow streets I 
was hailed by shopkeepers in their pigeon- 
English : “ Jlack, dome lin, and slee curio ; 
glood glin ” (good gin). 

Many of the stores were very large, and 
are filled with an endless variety of fur- 
niture and cui’ious things beautifully carved 
in native woods. 

At one place I heard the cat-call of a 
China band, and tried to enter what was 
evidently a tea-garden. I was quickly man- 
handled into the street, however, and a by- 
stander explained to me that “ one man 
had cha tehee a wife, and hab topside time ; ” 


144 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


in fact, I had intruded on a wedding-party 
without invitation, and hence my ejection. 

Every now and then some native official 
would come along preceded by pole-bear- 
ers, and every one got out of the way. 
No one seemed to be in a hurry ; the greedy 
haste and abuse of time that is character- 
istic of Americans is never seen in the East. 
The Chinese merchants do a great deal of 
work in a day, and do it well, but they are 
slow and sedate in their movements. 

As all the resorts for sailors. are by the 
waterside, I did not meet a single Euro- 
pean ; but one thing was everywhere, — the 
“fokee smell,” something like the air of a 
drug warehouse. 

A string of criminals now passed, guarded 
by soldiers armed with sickles mounted 
on bamboo shafts. Many of these poor 
wretches wore the “ canja,” a wide board 
with a hole for the head ; and I should 
suppose that it weighed seventy-five pounds. 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


145 


The prisoners looked horribly thin and ill- 
used, and the guards goaded them on with 
blows. 

The narrow streets were almost airless 
and stifling, and I was very glad to get 
into a broad avenue running at right an- 
gles to the one I just left. It was full of 
strong granite warehoiises which were se- 
curely closed, the doors and windows be- 
ing heavily barred with iron. T sat down 
in one of the wide doorways, and, feeling 
hot and tired, went fast asleep, and awoke 
at night-fall. 

I jumped up, amazed that there was no 
one in sight, and took my way towards 
what I supposed to be the waterside. 
Treading on something, I stooped and 
picked it up ; it was a bamboo shaft, loaded 
and spiked at one end, — such as coolies 
use to rest their loads on. 

It was growing quite dark, and I could 
just see a high stone wall with trees wav- 


146 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


ing on the top, casting a deep shadow. Far 
• ahead was the gleam of a light. 

Suddenly I heard footsteps, followed by 
the noise of a scuffle. Then a voice, un- 
mistakably English, cried out, Police ! 
police ! help ! thieves ! thieves ! ” I ran 
up and found one Chinaman holding a lan- 
tern and wringing his hands, while three 
or four more were evidently beating or rob- 
bing a man on the ground. 

I at once attacked them, and must have 
nearly broken one fellow’s back, as I gave 
him a whack that laid him flat. In ten 
seconds I had the field to myself, and I 
helped the victim to his feet. He, English- 
man like, broke out in a volley of abuse of 
China, the police, Shanghai, including every 
one in it, in one sweeping malediction. 
Then, calming down, he thanked me for 
coming to his aid, and asked who I was. 
I told him an American sailor on the Mal- 
abar. 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


147 


“ 0 yes ! ” he said. “ Old Parson Raven’s 
ship. Well, Jack, I won’t forget this; come 
home with me and you can go on board to- 
morrow. I’ll make it all right with the 
captain.” Giving the light-bearer a kick, 
he told him to go ahead, and after many 
turns we came to the docks, and entered a 
house surrounded by a fine garden in which 
were many trees. Unaccustomed as I was 
to anything finer than a ship’s cabin, the 
interior of the house seemed to me magnifi- 
cent. In order to make ventilation possi- 
ble, and to get plenty of draughts, the 
rooms in the European Quarter are all 
large, and have but little furniture in them. 
What is used is mostly in cane and bamboo, 
these being the only materials that will 
withstand the ravenous insects. 

My entertainer’s name was Wild, and he 
was comical in build : as broad as long, and 
so round that he could have been par- 
buckled and rolled like a cask. Unlike 


148 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


most fat men he was fidgety, and always in 
motion. I fancy his servants must have 
had a very unquiet time with him. 

I sat down at a table spread bounteously, 
and he asked me what I would drink. I 
answered, “Tea.” 

“ I have some very fine sherry,” he said. 

“Well, to tell the truth, sir, I don’t know 
what it is,” I replied. “I have never drank 
anything stronger than tea more than three 
times in my life.” 

“ What, a sailor, and don’t drink ! ” he ex- 
claimed. “ See here, young man, never 
rail at fortune. If you keep temperate 
and avoid drink, you need not go to sea. 
Drinking is the curse of this coast,” he 
added ; “ and although wine may be a pleas- 
ant servant and contribute to the pleasures 
of life, it is a terrible master. Now, we 
will retire, and to-morrow 1 will talk over 
the future with you.” 

My mind was so excited with the events 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


149 


of the evening that I could not sleep. I 
tumbled and rolled about until near morning, 
when the chatter of the servants awakened 
me, and I arose and made myself as pre- 
sentable as I could. 

After breakfast Mr. Wild said, Bonny, 
I will tell you what 1 propose to do for 
you. I am an officer in Her Majesty’s cus- 
toms, and I can place you there. You will 
get forty-five dollars per month, and I will 
look after your living. If you only hold 
to your resolution not to drink, I think 
you will not fail to succeed here.” 

I thanked him, and said I would do my 
best. 

“ That’s right, sir ; I believe you will,” he 
said. “ Now take this letter to my friend 
Raven, and get your clothes.” 

As I walked along I had many thoughts. 
What a revelation was this for me ! A 
place on shore where I could save thirty 
dollars a month, instead of risking my life. 


150 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


and working like a dog for fifteen dollars, 
was comparative wealth, and I found that 
I had ambition. Heretofore I had given 
the matter of improving my condition but 
little thought. In fact, I was young and 
strong, and my heart was light, and the 
hardships incident to a sailor life did not 
affect me but for the moment. 

Captain Raven asked why I didn’t report 
on board last night. In reply, I handed 
him the letter. He said at once, ‘‘ All right, 
young man. I’ll do anything to oblige my 
friend Mr. Wild. Hem ! hem ! ” and then he 
commenced : was I acquainted with Mr. 
Wild, etc., etc., all of which questions I 
fought off, and, going forward, got my bag, 
and after a few words with Bunting, I left. 

This scamp came near getting me into a 
scrape, in this way : delighted to chaff Mr. 
Raven, he told a wonderful story. 

“I was the son of the rich Englishman,” 
he declared, “ but I had been stolen by the 


A Fortunate Encounter. 


151 


Radicals and taken to the kingdom of 
jVlichigan,” etc. As the captain was a 
noted gossip, and these little European 
communities are notorious for this sort of 
thing, I became quite an object of curios- 
ity; and, hearing of Raven’s talk, I spoke 
to Mr. Wild. His answer was short, and to 
the point, — 

“ I’m not surprised. Bonny, at anything 
I hear in Shanghai. Everybody knows 
old Raven ; so you need not bother about 
it.” 


CHAPTER X. 


IN HER majesty’s CUSTOMS. 

I LIVED in Mr. Wild’s house, and fared 
extremely well. I was the only European 
about the place who did not kick or abuse 
the servants. As a result, I was neither 
respected, nor waited upon as were the 
others. Gratitude is utterly unknown to 
the Chinaman. He is so thrifty and prac- 
tical in his nature, that he has no senti- 
ments or propensities that are not selfish 
and used by him as a source of profit. I 
do not believe that any one who has ever 
lived among the Chinese will regard this a 
a harsh judgment. 

Dressed up in a blue uniform, with yel- 


152 


In Her Majesty’s Customs. 153 

low stripes on the cuffs and collar, and a 
band on my cap, my business was to 
communicate with vessels in the harbor, 
receive manifests, and take papers and per- 
mits. I had a neat gig, and four Chinamen 
as oarsmen. I took quite a pride in my 
outfit, and made them keep everything as 
bright as a new dollar. 

The only acquaintance I had was a young 

Englishman named M . My intercourse 

with him caused me to regret my limited 
education, and I found myself envious of 
the advantages that had been given him. 
He had been at one of the great public 
schools in England, and later, in a German 
university. He was undoubtedly a fine 
scholar, but when I came to know him 
better, my wonder grew that any one with 
such gifts could be so low and debased 
in tastes and manners. 

He would get drunk whenever and wher- 
ever he could ; he would borrow money ; 


154 In Her Majesty's Customs. 

would lie shamelessly : and was about as bad 
as a man could be. When sober his conver- 
sation was extremely agreeable to me, as I 
had never before had an opportunity to talk 
with any one so well informed. Mr. Wild, 
however, in his curt way, advised me to 
have nothing to do with him, and intimated 

that M would lose his appointment ere 

long unless he changed his habits. 

One morning, as I was going out to a 
vessel, I met one of the guard boats coming 
in. The steersman hailed me to pull along- 
side. I did so, and, to my horror, saw lying 
across the thwarts of the boat, the body of 

M . He had a fearful gash across the 

face, and had been taken out of the river 
about an hour before. I was told that, in 
all probability, he had gone on board one 
of the floating grog-shops in the river, had 
been killed in a row, and then thrown over- 
board. The policeman, an Englishman, 
said frankly that it was a good riddance, as 


In Her Majesty's Customs. 155 

the young fellow had given them a great 
deal of trouble. 

This was a most impressive temperance 
lecture for me, and did much to confirm me 

in my resolution to avoid liquor. M 

was buried that day, and those who knew 
the poor wretch best seemed of the police- 
man’s opinion ; but, with all his faults, I 
could not help regretting his untimely tak- 
ing off. 

Among the merchants, heavy feasting 
and hard drinking was of nightly occur- 
rence. Every week Mr. Wild gave a din- 
ner party to at least twenty-five of his 
friends and associates. Of course I was 
never invited to these, and did not care to 
be. When he spoke of the advantages of 
sobriety, Mr. Wild no doubt intended that 
I should heed his precepts rather than fol- 
low his example ; for he and all his guests 
seldom broke up their entertainments until 
they were all as drunk as they could well be ; 


156 In Her Majesty s Customs. 

at such times, too, their antics, though sad 
to reflect upon, were comical enough. 

They seldom went away until daylight, 
and then made a terriflc uproar. One 
tall, dry Scotchman, a rich tea broker, in- 
variably made a row about his hat. He 
would generally try on a dozen or so of 
the hats belonging to the others, until he 
found one that suited him ; and that he 
took. It was his invariable practice, also, 
to get into one door of his palanquin and 
out the other, until he was thoroughly fired 
out. Then the bearers would pick him up, 
and trot away with him. 

The English love of practical joking had 
full play on such occasions, and the good 
temper displayed amazed me. Once a party 
who, I suppose, had not been invited, brought 
a garden engine to the open window and 
played on the company at dinner, in- 
side, drenching everything and everybody. 
They were pursued, and one of them being 


In Her Majesty's Customs. 157 

taken was, aftef a great struggle and up- 
roar, solemnly ducked in the water tank in 
the garden. And these were all middle- 
aged men, too ! 

I spoke of these things to an American 
named Rand, who was clerk in a ship chan- 
dlery, and who was a very steady and in- 
telligent fellow. He had been in China 
many years. 

Yes, Bonny,” he said, “ you are right ; 
this manner of living does impair their 
capacity for business. It did not matter, 
thirty or forty years ago, when the Eng- 
lish entirely controlled the trade here. 
But now they have competitors in both the 
Chinese and the German merchants, and 
these last are very persevering. They are 
excellent business men, and are gradually 
getting the trade from the English houses.” 

I had, in one way and another, got to- 
gether one hundred dollars. This seemed 
to me a great deal of money, so I bought a 


158 In Her Majesty's Customs. 

draft on New York, and sent it home, tell- 
ing my mother of my good fortune, and, 
no doubt, boasting a little. Up to the pres- 
ent time I had received no word from my 
mother, and I was suffering from a decided 
attack of homesickness. The constant work 
on board ship had exempted me from any 
backward longing, but now I would have 
given up all my prospects for a look at my 
mother, Helen, Jack, and the mountains. 

I had a great deal of intercourse with 
captains of vessels, and I found the Amer- 
icans to be different from all others. When 
an English ship came in, her officers went 
on shore and took their ease for a time ; 
they would attend dinner parties, and enjoy 
themselves generally. So, too, would the 
French and Germans. But the American 
skipper was never at rest. Off came the 
hatches, and out came the cargo, and his 
haste to get into port was only equalled by 
his hurry to get away j I am glad to 


In Her Majesty's Customs. 159 

say, however, that he made very little by 
it. The Chinese merchants had a settled 
routine, and would not be driven out of it. 
I was often amused at seeing a Yankee 
captain, perspiring, eager and argumenta- 
tive, begging and pleading for dispatch 
with some stolid Chinese consignee, who 
looked at his uneasy questioner, with un- 
blinking eyes, and answered him with pro- 
voking slowness : 

“ Yass ; soon quick. Next week come.” 

The Yankee would fairly wring his hands 
in desperation, and dart away, his coat- 
tails flying as he vanished through the 
door. 

Foreigners attributed this to the national 
spirit of greed and desire for money. It is, 
in fact, a spirit of restlessness and a desire 
to get on, peculiar to our people, and is alto- 
gether independent of money-making. 

On board ship, American officers seldom 
sit down. I don’t know a greater nuisance 


160 In Her Majesty's Customs. 

than our “ Boson Captain ” ; that is, one who 
bothers himself with petty details which 
belong properly to the mate’s charge. 
English captains are generally much less 
disposed to interfere with their officers, and 
leave the charge of the ship to them en- 
tirely, seldom meddling with, or giving 
orders to the men. On the “ Dago,” or 
Italian ships, it is still otherwise. Every 
one there seems to order every one else ; 
but they are good seamen, nevertheless, 
and are, in my opinion, far superior to the 
French. 

The officer in charge of the inspector’s 
barge was taken sick, and I took his place. 
In this position I saw how ingenious is 
“ John Chinaman ” in his attempts to de- 
fraud the revenue by smuggling opium. 
The Englishmen would have been of very 
little use in preventing this, but for the as- 
sistance of their Chinese associates who 
were up to the devices of their country- 


In Hir Majesty's Customs. 161 

men. Every place on board a suspected 
junk was searched, and I once saw six thou- 
sand dollars’ worth of smoking opium taken 
out of the bamboo mainyard of a coaster. 
I also had some credit and good fortune 
herein, for I fished out of the river a case 
neatly done up in tarpaulin, that con- 
tained a large amount of the drug, and had 
evidently been towed overboard, as it was 
buoyed fast to a bamboo stick ; but the line 
had parted. My share of the penalty 
amounted to one hundred and forty dollars. 

Opium smoking in China is by no means 
as common as drinking is amongst English 
and Americans, and, in my opinion, it is not 
more baneful. 

1 have known, during my shore life in 
China, numberless instances of men of good 
social position, wealth and fine prospects 
absolutely killing themselves by the bottle, 
while it very seldom happens that a Chinese 
ofiicial or merchant is given to opium smok- 


162 In Her Majesty's Oustoms. 

ing. It is almost entirely the vice of the 
lower, or coolie class. Poor wretches ! I 
don’t wonder that they take something to 
enable them to forget their slavish lives for 
a time. The opium dens, too, are far less 
noisome and repugnant to Western eyes 
than the horrible floating grog-shops in 
Shanghai Creek, where foreign sailors riot 
their lives away. Indeed, in all my expe- 
rience in many ports, I think these last the 
vilest and most murderous resorts that I 
have ever seen. Wherever now you may 
go in the East, you will find the Chinese 
monopolizing this business. It is so in 
Singapore, in Manila, at Bombay and Cal- 
cutta, and other large seaports. 

Christmas was now at hand, and our 
rooms w'ere decorated with green boughs 
and made to look as much like home as 
possible. This celebrating “ Englishman’s 
Joss ” was a source of wonder to the Chi- 
nese, who have a very poor opinion of 


In Her Majesty's Customs. 163 

Western religions. Indeed, this could hardly 
be otherwise, for the Anglo-Saxon abroad 
generally acts more like a heathen than do 
the heathens themselves. And on this spe- 
cial Christmas Day we had a grand dinner 
party, to which all were invited. I wit- 
nessed a wild debauch, that, had it been 
carried out by sailors, would, doubtless, 
have been spoken of as disgraceful. But 
however it might have been characterized, 
the result was a sad one for me, for my 
patron, Mr. Wild, was seized with apo- 
plexy next day, and that night he died. 

Mr. B , who took his place, was 

kindly disposed towards me, but he had a 
nephew lounging about and doing very 
little good for himself or any one else. It 
was necessary that this nephew should be 
provided for, and, in about a month after 
Mr. Wild was buried, I was informed that I 

was not wanted any longer. Mr. B 

told me that he would try and place me 


164 In Her Majesty's Customs. 

elsewhere, and in the meantime I should 
continue to occupy my present quarters. 
In fact, he was very kind and considerate. 

The new appointee celebrated his good 
luck by getting drunk and beating the cox- 
swain of the barge with a stretcher. When 
ordered to go on duty, he had no crew, as 
the Chinamen had all left him, and I was 
obliged to go to work and pick up a scratch 
crew to pull the gig. 

A short time after this Mr. B told 

me that an English brig, the Dart Allen, 
was about to sail on a trading voyage to 
the South Sea Islands, and wanted a super- 
cargo. He offered to give me a letter to 
the captain that would insure my appoint- 
ment if I wished to go. I was tired of 
lounging about, and ‘‘ being in everybody’s 
mess, and nobody’s watch,” so I gladly took 
the letter and reported on the Dart Allen. 

I found her to be a brig of six hundred 
tons, and one which, from her looks, might 


In Her Majesty's Customs. 165 

have been built in the times of Columbus. 
Captain Maine at once engaged me, at 
twenty dollars a month, and “ summist over 
if the v’ige turns out well.” He was an 
awful cockney, although he had been in 
this part of the world for twenty-five years. 

The first mate was a Scotchman, who 
lived in daily fear of hurricanes, and saw 
wreck and destruction in every little blow. 
Indeed, had the captain been like his mate, 
we would never have got out of the river, 
for old McGraw, after a look at the barom- 
eter, and scanning the horizon for ten min- 
utes, thought “ it wadna dee til reisk it, sur.” 
A Yankee captain would have lashed him 
to the lee rigging in derision and disgust. 
But he was a good practical seaman, and 
had been on the ship for ten years. There 
were six men before the mast ; quite enough 
to work the vessel ; but, twenty years be- 
fore, she would have carried twice that 
number. 


CHAPTER XI. 


AFLOAT AGAIN. 

In March, 1870, we sailed from Shang- 
hai. Besides a general cargo, we had on 
board a quantity of rice. This we were 
to deliver at Mindanao, in the Philippines. 
Our brig was a very tub in sailing, and the 
mate’s dread of losing a spar caused us to 
miss opportunities of making better prog- 
ress ; in sailor phrase, he was a “ wind jam- 
mer and a Jonah ” : a man entirely out of 
place on a ship, although very well fitted 
to command and sail a canal boat. 

I believe that he enfeebled his mind and 
judgment by using Chinese medicine for 
some imaginary complaint. His first visit 


166 


Afloat Again. 


167 




on shore when he came into port, was to 
the sheng, or native doctor ; and some of 
the medicines he, showed me were queer 
enough. One, I remember, was a fever 
remedy, and was as much like coarse- 
grained gunpowder as it could be without 
being gunpowder. It was very effectual, 
however, as I tried it on myself, and a 
nasty fever peculiar to the coast was at 
once checked ; but it was horrible stuff to 
take. These doctors handle their patients 
in a style that none but Chinamen could 
endure and Ij^ : beating, punching and 
pounding heroically ; this is, I believe, to 
promote circulation. 

Our captain was a good pilot amongst 
the reefs and little islands that are so num- 
erous in the archipelago. He stood by the 
wheel coursing the ship, and in fifteen days 
we cast anchor off Mindanao. The heat 
was intense. The place was very sickly, 
and Was fairly under water, the houses be- 


168 


Afloat Again. 


ing built on piles. I found plenty to do, 
as we had to lighten our rice off, and as I 
was obliged to accompany every boat load. 

The principal merchant was a Hollander, 
and a very friendly and hospitable gentle- 
man. He told me to tell our captain that 
he had information of a fleet of pirate Pra- 
hus that was about leaving the, west coast 
of the island for a cruise. He said we 
must be on our guard, as the pirates would 
most likely be cruising on our coast. 

In spite of the English and Dutch gun- 
boats, this is by no means a safe part of 
the world for mariners. Vessels are still 
attacked by Malay buccaneers, especially 
when within a few miles of shore. 

The captain was much disturbed, but 
said we would never make our voyage if 
we did not take chances. He asked me to 
overhaul our armament. This I found was 
poor enough. Even for our small crew, 
there were not muskets enough. I man- 


Afloat Again, 


169 


aged, however, to get cutlasses, pikes and 
guns sufficient to go around. Two nine- 
pounders made up our broadside armament, 
but we had only eight charges apiece, and 
half a dozen round shot, with about a 
bushel of Chinese grape (small iron balls 
weighing half a pound apiece). The cap- 
tain had a pair of revolvers, and a double 
shot gun and rifle. I put our weapons into 
as good order as possible, but I would not 
have fired one of the muskets for a month’s 
wages. They were tower pieces a hundred 
years old certainly, and flint-locks at that. 

However, there was no help for it, and 
we roused up our anchor and made our 
course east through Juanco straight into 
the North Pacific. The weather was very 
fine. The wind was on the port quarter, 
we had our foretop sail and main stunsail 
set, the old hooker was bowling along at her 
best gait, and was sinking the land when 
bump ! the ship seemed to be lifted fairly 


170 


Afloat Again. 


out the water by a thrust from beneath her 
keel, and then came down with a smack 
that made everything reel. 

“ Good heavens, Mr. Bonny ! ” cried the 
captain, “ what’s that ? we haven’t grounded 
in mid-ocean, surely.” 

I ran to the taffrail and looked over, but 
saw no white water. Just then one of the 
men sung out “ There she blows ! a hundred 
barreller.” 

Sure enough, about two hundred yards 
off the lee bow was a monstrous sperm- 
whale, evidently in trouble, as he was send- 
ing up a column of spray through his spout 
hole, and lashing the water into foam with 
his tail and flippers. 

“There’s what struck us, confound him,” 
growled the captain. “ I hope the brute’s 
got a sore back for so nearly staving us in.” 

We had actually run into this fellow, 
and had very nearly lost our topmasts. It 
is well known to sailors that, when enraged. 


Afloat Again. 


171 


sperm-whales have boldly attacked vessels 
and battered them in. Upon the whole, 
therefore, we had escaped very well. The 
tacks of the stunsails had parted, the can- 
vas was slatting in the wind, and our fore 
topmast was evidently sprung; but there 
was no use sending it down now, as that 
would make a tub of the ship. So it was 
new Added, and lashed, and we secured it 
as best we could with guys. 

It would have much ensured our safety 
if we could have made a couple of hundred 
miles from land ; but the mate reported 
to the captain that the Dart had sprung 
aleak. No doubt the rap we got from the 
whale had opened a seam. But it is never 
so bad but it may be even worse. Just as 
we had discovered the leak, a man on the 
topsail yard, reeving a block for the stun- 
sail gear, sang out, “ Sail ho ! On the 
starboard beam I can just make out the 
sail.” 


172 


Afloat Again. 


“ What is it like ? ” asked the captain. 

‘‘ A low vessel ; a native, I think, sir,” 
came the reply. 

“ Mr. Bonny,” said the captain, ‘‘ take 
this glass, sir, and go aloft, and make her 
out.” 

I climbed to the royal cross-trees, and 
took a long look. My worst fears were 
realized. There was no doubt of it. It 
was a pirate boat full of men ; her big 
lateen-sails were bellying out, and she was 
coming down on us like a sword-fish. 

We at once wore ship and got before the 
wind, while the mate brought the arms out 
of the cabin and distributed them among 
the crew. I got into the lower rigging 
and saw the Malay boat plainly. The 
pirates had got out their sweeps and were 
standing upright and working them. Noth- 
ing could save us if they should once get 
alongside of the ship. We were making 
no speed at all. Sounding the pumps 


Afloat Again. 


173 


showed three feet of water in the hold. 
Everything was against us ; we seemed 
destined to lose both the vessel and our 
own lives. 

The Prahu was now near enough for us 
to hear her crew yelling at the sweeps. In 
two minutes more they would be aboard 
us, unless we could keep away. 

When they were about two hundred yards 
away we laid the after gun, and, taking a 
fair aim, for the sea was quite smooth, we 
let them have it. The shot was a good one ; 
several of the sweeps hung over the side, 
and their workers were killed. Captain 
Maine worked the after gun and, fortu- 
nately, brought down the enemy’s fore- 
mast ; the long heavy yard and mat sail 
came down with a run, and fairly smoth- 
ered the spearmen who were in the bow, 
ready to spring into our chains. 

“Keep her off, Mr. Mason ! ” roared the 
captain ; “ round in the lee braces a little 


174 


Afloat Again. 


more; be steady, men ! We may beat them 
yet. Mr. McGraw, there is a smoke in the 
eastern board. I think it’s a steamer.” 

“Take the glass, Mr. Bonny,” said the 
mate, “ and seize the ensign on to the signal 
halliards, union down.” 

‘‘Ay, ay, sir!” 

“ It’s a steamer. Captain Maine,” I re- 
ported, after I had my glass well on her, 
“ and about five miles away ; she will see 
our signal. Yes, thank God, sir, she’s com- 
ing our way.” 

“Stand to your guns, men,” cried the 
captain. “ We’ll weather the scoundrels 
yet.” 

In the meantime we were not idle, but 
helping ourselves. The second mate and 
I poured three charges of grape into the 
waist of the pirate boat, the last not thirty 
yards off, blowing part of the side out. Just 
as they were throwing the grapnel we 
sheered off, but not before three of the 


Afloat Again. 


175 


ruffians sprang into the chains. A Manila- 
man in the crew ran out on the bowsprit 
and stabbed the two foremost with his 
pike. The next instant he was killed by 
a thrust from the third pirate who, in turn, 
was shot by a sailor. 

At this juncture they gave us a dis- 
charge from their four swivels. The shot 
all struck the side except one, which en- 
tered the after port and went clean through 
our brave little captain, dashing him to the 
deck a dead man. 

“ Ah ! they see the steamer,” I shouted. 
“ And now their sweeps are out, and they are 
leaving us and making for the land. They 
have cleared away the wreck of the mast, 
have thrown the raffle of spars and sail 
overboard^ and are bending to their oars.” 
At one hundred and fifty yards away, we 
gave them both guns, but I don’t think we 
did them much harm. 

Jumping into the mizzen rigging, I looked 


176 


Afloat Again. 


for the steamer. ‘‘Here she comes, Mr. 
McGraw,” I cried. “ She’s a French steam 
corvette, and is fairly cracking through the 
water.” 

On she comes, cutting a feather of foam 
with her sharp bows. Her officers evi- 
dently know that we are safe, and are after 
the pirates. 

Bend your backs, ye sea wolves ; your 
time has come! All at once the French- 
man luffs and brings his broadside to bear 
on the flying Prahu. There is a flash from 
the midship port, and a heavy shot cuts the 
boat in two ; then follows a shower of 
grape, lashing the water into foam. 

They have no sentimental tenderness 
for the heathen — have “ Ces Messieurs.” 

The cracking of rifles shows that they 
intend to make a clean thing of it. One 
tall fellow stands in the stern of the pirate 
boat, cool and deflant, with his face to the 
steamer ; save for the heaving of the wreck 


Afloat Again. 


177 


he is standing on, he could not be more 
motionless if he were cast in bronze. A 
shot strikes him ; he falls backward, and, 
with a wave of his arm, goes down. 

We give a cheer as the corvette comes 
within hail. In good English comes the 
inquiry, “Ahoy ! what ship is that?” 

“ The English brig Dart Allen, from 
Shanghai, bound for the Islands. 

“ Are you disabled ? Do you want 
help ? ” 

“ Thanks, no ; we have lost our captain 
and one man, but need no aid.” 

With a wave of the trumpet we are dis- 
missed, and in five minutes are a mile 
apart. 

“ Rig the pumps at once ; the water is 
gaining on us,” shouts the mate. “ Get 
out a spare sail and thrum it, and we’ll try 
and stop the leak.” 

Fortunately, this did some good, and 
after three hours’ hard work, all hands 


178 Afloat Again. 

aiding, we got the water down to safety 
level. 

Then Mr. McGraw called the second 
mate and myself for consultation, and all 
agreed that it was useless to go three thou- 
sand miles in a leaky vessel. So we braced 
around our yards, and made sail due east, 
for the port in Mindanao that we had 
last come from. 

The wind had changed now. It was 
dead east, and all that we could do was to 
make long legs and short ones, and so 
burnish our copper, but making little way. 
Suddenly one of the men, standing on the 
heel of the bowsprit, sang out to the sec- 
ond mate, “ Mr. Sandys, ain’t that some 
men on a spar out there ? ” 

I went forward with the glass. 

“ Yes, Mr. Sandys,” I reported, “ he’s right. 
Two men adrift •, and, what’s more, sir, they 
belong to the craft that so nearly took us. 
They have made almost as good time as 


Afloat Again. 


179 


we have, but they are forty miles from 
land, and they never’ll make it unless some 
vessel picks ’em up.” 

“ Well,” said the second mate, “ this 
ain’t the craft that’s going to pick ’em up,” 
and, hurrying aft, he returned with the 
captain’s double shot gun. 

“ I loaded this with swan-shot, and I’ll 
give ’em a broadside,” said he. 

Now I had no right to interfere, but 
there was something horrible in all this. 
As we came nearer, the men looked at us 
without a sign. Stern and impassive, they 
clung to the timber on which they were 
drifting. It was almost out of sight, and 
the men themselves were about half out 
of the water, rising and falling with the 
surge of the waves. Not a sign for suppli- 
cation or mercy, but, calm and stern, they 
awaited our coming. We hailed them, but 
got no answer, and we ran so near that I 
could see their steadfast eyes. 


180 Afloat Again. 

The mate leaned the gun against the 
cat-head, and the doomed men looked 
straight at the marksman.” Bang ! ” One, 
without a groan or shudder, slipped off 
the spa,r, and disappeared. Another aim 
was taken ; the spar came up, but there 
was nothing on it : both the rovers were 
gone. 

“ Stand by the halliards ! shake out the 
reefs in the main topsail ! men, lay out ! 
helm alee ! ” And all hands went aft. 

No doubt in ten minutes the incident 
was forgotten, but I lay in my hammock 
swinging with the surge of the ship, and 
thought long of the defiant courage of 
those fierce and fearless men. 

We had intended to take the body 
of the captain on shore for burial, but 
a corpse on a ship is dreaded by sail- 
ors, and already they attributed this head 
wind to its presence. In the morning, 
therefore, the mate read the burial service, 





THE DOOMED MEN LOOKED STKAlCillT AT THE MAUKSMAN 













Afloat Again, 


183 


and^ with a plunge, our kindly little captain 
sank out of mortal sight. 

I have a horror of this vast, wander- 
ing, ever-changing, storm-beaten cemetery ; 
rather let me lie in the wildest recesses 
of the mountains, as does my father. I 
would not be as desolate there as in this 
illimitable, humanless sea. There the 
spring will come and go, and again re- 
turn with buds and flowers, but there are 
no seasons here. Even our memory must 
soon pass away ; for the mind loses thought 
of one of whose place of rest there is no 
trace. 

I remember once hearing the question 
asked in the middle watch, ^^Do they rise 
to judgment who are buried in the sea?” 
A quiet Scotchman produced his Bible, and 
read without comment : 

‘^For we must all appear before the 
judgment seat of Christ ; that every one 
may receive the things done in his body. 


184 


Afloat Again. 


according to that he hath done, whether 
it be good or bad.” From this there was 
no appeal, for although he may not read 
it, the words of the Bible settle, for a sailor, 
all questions of morals or belief. 

This morning the leak opened again, and 
we were making two or three inches an 
honY. The pumps clanged away, and we 
wore ourselves out at this, the most dis- 
heartening and exhausting labor that is 
known to seamen. By the time we made 
our old anchorage at Mindanao, our 
wretched tub was full of water, and her 
foundering was only a question of time. 
When the tide came in and lifted her, we 
got the ship fairly aground, and employed 
a gang of natives to pump her out. On 
examination it was found that her hull was 
so decayed that I could drive a top-maul 
through it. And yet she was insured ! 
But the lives of her crew had not been 
taken into account. 


185 


Afloat Again. 

The ordinary perils of the sea are bad 
enough, but it is a terrible thought that 
Christian men should be so moved by 
greed and love of money, as to deliberately 
send a dozen human beings out on the 
ocean in such a murderous craft as this. 

To the Malay pirates we were fair prey, 
to be won by hard fighting. They acted 
according to their instinct and reason, and 
were staunch to one another. Indeed, to 
my thinking, they were better men than 
are the merchants who under-man, over- 
load, and heavily insure old vessels that 
have one chance in ten of ever reaching a 
port in safety. 

Sailors all believe that if there were no 
underwriters, and no insurance offices, their 
lives would be safer, vessels would be bet- 
ter manned, and their crews better treated 
than is now the case. And 1 think they 
are right. 


CHAPTER XII. 

TEEASUEE HUNTING. 

At the request of the mate, I took pas- 
sage on a native vessel for Manado, on 
Celebes Island, where the agent for onr 
firm lived. Our craft was a curious one. 
She was about forty feet long, and was built 
of a dark wood as fragrant as a flower. I 
don’t think there was a pound of iron used 
in her construction; even the planks in her 
hull were doweled together. Her immense 
mainsail was made of grass cloth, and 
swung to a short stump mast, and over the 
stern hung a jiggersail that was, to my 
mind, of no use at all. But she went like a • 
shark through the water, and did not show 


186 


Treasure Hunting, 


187 


a leak. We were very crowded, and had, 
among other passengers, a bull about as 
large as a donkey, and so tame that he 
would lay right down on you at night, 
and suffer himself to be pulled about and 
handled like a dog. This was a present to 
some gentleman in Celebes, from a native 
prince in Mindanao. 

We had about five hundred miles to sail, 
and I was very glad when we reached port. 
Manado is a town of eight hundred inhabi- 
tants, and certainly twice as many houses. 
As these are built in a day, every gentle- 
man is supposed to have at least three, 
and when the ants and vermin drive the 
family out of one they move into another. 

The agent, Mr. Boomer, was an old sea 
captain — a Holland-Englishman. He re- 
ceived me very kindly, and made a mighty 
bowl of grog. He opened his eyes when 
I asked to be excused from drinking. 
Strangely enough, T never met a confirmed 


188 


Treasure Hunting. 


toper out here who did not commend my 
temperance, and advise me to stick to it. 
While this gentleman was never sober, 
neither was he ever quite drunk ; and from 
morning until night there was rum-punch 
so strong that the very smell affected my 
head. 

He took the misfortunes of losing the 
Dart very little to heart, and said frankly 
that she was insured from truck to keelson, 
and that he would as soon have made the 
voyage in a gig as tried to cross the Pacific 
in her. 

A few days after an underwriter’s agent 
went back to make a survey and report, 
and as I had a smart attack of coast fever 
I was saved the return trip to the island. 

I shall never forget the doctor that at- 
tended me. He was a German, named 
Sloon, and he was the biggest man I ever 
saw. His height was fully seven feet, and 
he weighed four hundred pounds. His 


Treasure Hunting, 


189 


hands were like shoulders of mutton, and 
he never laid them on me without making 
black and blue marks on my flesh, hard as 
it was. He was very skilful, however, and 
kind, and was much liked by the European 
residents, while the natives were terribly 
afraid of him. I don’t wonder at this, as 
it was his custom to walk about talking 
aloud and flourishing a bamboo stick as big 
as a dinghy mast. Indeed, Mr. Boomer 
declared that he was worth a regiment of 
soldiers in keeping the natives in order. 

But the greatest drawback to a pleasant 
life here is the plague of insects. They 
tackle you, not in companies, but battal- 
ions. Cockroaches two inches long, and 
known as ^H^nockers,” get into the room 
at nightfall, and, mounting the tables and 
chairs, bang away with their heads on the 
wood like a company of nailers. Another 
beast of a beetle realizes Jack’s description 
of the West India bugle bug, that sits on 


190 


Treasure Hunting. 


the bedpost and blows a fish born all night 
long.” A sailor told me that he would as 
soon be hit with a belaying-pin as have 
a “ burial beetle ” lay hold of him. This 
brute is as large as a dollar, and never lets 
go until it wrenches a piece of flesh out 
of the unhappy mortal thus attacked ; the 
Avound it gives is very apt to fester and 
become sore. 

Sloon asserted that this carnivorous nui- 
sance was really a natural doctor — a kind 
of irregular practitioner whose attentions 
dissipated the evil humors that the climate 
pi'oduces. This those may believe Avho will. 

Besides these there were Avonderful carry- 
ing beetles that Avould Avalk aAvay Avith any 
thing at ail portable. When the creAv left 
the Dart, they came to Manado, and the 
first mate, McGraw, roomed with me. He 
Avas a Presbyterian, and, when in port, it 
Avas his Avont to dress in a swalloAv-tail blue 
coat and tall hat like a Yankee skipper, and 


Treasure Iliinting. 


191 


go to church, generally returning home to 
abuse the preacher and the sermon. He 
was very proud of this hat, which no doubt 
had been made for his grandfather. One 
day, ' while alone in the room, I saw 
McGraw's tile on the floor, apj)arently 
walking away. On examination I found 
that a crowd of carrying beetles were at 
work turning it around and around. Their 
destination was a large hole in the corner 
of the room. I stole out, not caring to be 
there when the Scotchman came in. An 
hour after I returned. McGraw was stand- 
ing in the middle of the room with his ven- 
erable chapeau in hand. Had a shark been 
biting it that poor hat could not have 
looked worse : the rim was notched all 
around ; the wool chewed out, and a hole 
smack through the crown. The owner’s 
language was by no means orthodox as he 
abused the country, the climate, and every 
thing in it. After this I was not so in- 


192 


Treasure Hunting. 


credulous of the cook’s yarn, that the 
bugs ” had carried away a galley stove on 
a wessel ” in which he once sailed. 

I remained here, doing clerical work for 
Mr. Boomer, and then sailed for Shanghai 
in an old schooner with a stump fore-mast, 
belonging to the firm, called the Jessie. 
We had one passenger, an Englishman. 

Mr. G was a naturalist, and had been 

two years in the islands collecting bugs, 
beetles, and snakes. The snakes our cap- 
tain strongly objected to, but, being well 
paid, he took them aboard, and had them 
confined in strong bamboo cages. The col- 
lector’s whole time was taken up in petting 
and feeding these hideous reptiles. 

One night, about midnight, a terrible 
yell from the deck-house, and the sight of 
the watch rushing out on deck, brought all 
hands forward. One of the men, his eyes 
starting out of his head with fright, de- 
clared that something had ‘‘ squeezed ” him 


Treasure Huntiny. 


193 


in his bunk. Our first mate, Reading, a 
resolute American, picked up a hand-spike, 
and telling me to hold the lantern, went 
into the deck-house. There, to my horror, 
just over the side of the bunk, we saw the 
head of a huge snake. One whack with 
the bar killed it, but it plunged and lashed 
around so that we quickly got out. When 
every thing seemed quiet we returned, and 
after punching around we got the brute by 
the tail and dragged it out. It was a Pj- 
tlion^ ten feet long. No wonder the sailor 
was frightened at this hideous bedfellow. 

Investigation showed that it had escaped 
from the cage, but in five minutes it and 

all the others went overboard. Mr. G 

made a tremendous row next day, but the 
captain knew nothing about it and didn’t 
care, and Mr. Reading told the fellow to 
go aft or he would throw him after his 
bloody snaikes.” When we got to Shang- 
hai the Englishman made a claim for com- 


194 


Treasure Hunting. 


pensation, but it came out that two of the 
reptiles were fatally venomous, and ’ his 
complaint was disregarded. , 

I remained with this Shanghai firm six 
months, overseeing Chinese stevedores, who 
are certainly as skilful as any in the world. 
Being fairly paid, I would have been glad 
to have remained, but the firm became 
embarrassed, and I believe from no other 
rfeason than the mismanagement of their 
business by the worthless and incompetent 
loafers who were sent out by the London 
house. These were all relatives or depen- 
dents of the partners of the house, who 
took this plan of providing for them. 

In fact, the treaty ports, ten years ago, 
were full of these broken-down English- 
men. Many of them were, no doubt, well 
connected and well educated, but the mean- 
est fo’kesel scowbank of a sailor could not 
be more worthless and dissolute. 

I siippose that years ago, when the Eng- 


Treasure Hunting, 


195 


lish houses realized fortunes annually, it 
made little difference how many poor rela- 
tions they had quartered on them, but now- 
adays business must be conducted as it is 
elsewhere, or end in disaster. # 

I used often to wonder at the caprice of 
Fortune that gave these reckless, broken- 
down men good educations and fine chances 
in life, only to be abused, while I, with self- 
respect, a willingness to work, and a strong 
ambition to rise, was denied all these ad- 
vantages. Like most unlearned men, I had 
an exaggerated belief in the power that 
education gives a man in the race for life. 
I am wiser now, and know that natural 
hardihood and resolute determination to 
win are the first requisites for success in 
this world. Nearly all the failures that I 
have known have been those of educated, 
intellectual, but unbusiness-like men. 

It was about this time that I met one of 
my old messmates on the Punjaub, and he 


196 


Treasure Hunting. 


told me that Gordon was in prison at Sing- 
apore, having been taken, along with 
others, in an act of undoubted piracy. In 
all probability he would have to go up to 
the yard-arm. It seems that a party of 
desperadoes had stolen a ship’s launch and 
boarded a Chinese junk in the Malacca 
Straits. They had killed some of the 
junk’s crew, taken out over eight thousand 
dollars, and then run the vessel on shore. 
Falling to fighting among themselves, they 
were quickly detected and hunted down by 
a British gunboat, and brought in to Sing- 
apore. Gordon, I afterward heard, was 
not hung, but sent to the Penang convict 
settlement, and there, I suppose, he ended 
his stormy life. 

As the firm was now closing up its affairs 
I got my discharge, and was at once offered 
a chance in a curious business. Among the 
traditions of the coast, there was a story of 
an English ship, the Lady Jane, that had 


Treasure Hunting. 


197 


been wrecked off Chusan Island, in 1850. 
She was said to have eighty thousand 
pounds in bullion on board at the time, 
and several speculative Englishmen had 
fitted up a large schooner to look after the 
wreck, and, if possible, recover the treas- 
ure. I had heard about this, but had no 
confidence whatever in its success. I 
was, therefore, rather surprised when I 
was offered a position as second mate on 
this treasure hunter, the Robroy, at fair 
wages and an increase contingent on sue- 
cess. I was tired of lounging, and at once 
closed with the offer, and went aboard. 

I had some misgivings about starting so 
late in the season. No thought of failure, 
however, appeared to cross the minds of the 
projectors of the scheme. I remember that 
one of them assured me that he had made 
all arrangements to leave for home, with 
his share of the money. He would settle 
down, he said, and never wanted to hear of 


198 


Treasure Hunting. 


China for the rest of his life. The fact was, 
however, that he would have done very 
well in China if he could but have kept his 
mouth shut, and let brandy alone. 

We got in heavy spars for sheers, blocks 
and tackle, with all things necessary for 
raising the wreck, and away we sailed. 
When we came to the place where the 
wreck was said to lie, and anchored there, 
I saw at once that there could scarcely be 
a more dangerous spot on the whole coast, in 
case usual northwesters came down upon us. 
Our anchorage was about a mile from the 
land — which was little more than a deso- 
late sand-bank. Five Chinese divers had 
been hired, with two suits of armor. 

The first thing to be done was to find 
the wreck, and set out buoys. Early next 
morning one of the Chinamen prepared to 
go down, but chose to do so without a 
diving dress. He was swung in a bow-line, 
and had a heavy stone as a sinker. In ten 


Treasure Huntiny. 


199 


seconds after the poor fellow had gone over 
the side, a yell from one of his companions 
who was tending the body-line, brought us 
all to the side. “ Look ! ” Sure enough, 
not three feet below the surface, and quite 
visible in the green water, was an enormous 
shark, at least twenty feet long. The 
brute was motionless, save for a stealthy 
movement of the tail. 

“ Quick ! ” called the mate ; ‘‘ the grains ! 
the grains ! ” raising the heavy harpoon, 
known as “ the grains.” The mate darted 
it. The shark dived, and again arose. We 
thought that the brute could be driven off, 
and the man drawn in, but the shark, no 
doubt, had seen his prey, and when he came 
within six feet of the surface, the monster 
darted at him with a white flash, moving 
his huge body with scarcely a ripple of the 
water. 

Again the grains were darted and struck ; 
but too late ! We only succeeded in get- 


200 


Treasure Hunting. 


ting the upper part of the diver’s body 
into the vessel. He had been clean cut 
in two. I had never seen anything so 
horrible. The blood in the water seemed 
to excite the shark greatly, for he came 
quite up to the surface, dashing around, 
hungry and ferocious. I sent the grains 
fairly into him, but they tore out and the 
monster dived and disappeared. 

Of course one and all of the men refused 
to go down, as the place was alive with 
man-eaters. I don’t think I ever saw them 
so thick. The sea, too, grew so rough that 
it took a hundred fathoms of chain to pre- 
vent us from dragging the anchors. 

One of the company was with us, and 
he proposed a novel plan for clearing the 
water around the wreck, so that the men 
could go down safely. A pound of powder 
was placed in a half-gallon jug, and a small 
loaded pistol was screwed into the mouth 
of the jug, which was made water-tight. 


Treasure Hunting. 201 

The plan was to wrap a piece of pork 
around the jug, and have two lines, one 
lashed to the bait, and the other to the 
pistol trigger. As soon as the shark had 
swallowed the bait, which he did with a 
single gulp, it was proposed to pull the 
trigger line and blow him up. Much to my 
surprise, the plan succeeded. 

A bucket of slops from the galley was 
thrown over the side, and, in a moment, we 
saw the white flash from below ; the sea- 
tiger was coming up. With a splash, we 
dropped the battery into the water. I had 
charge of the pistol line. Our strongest 
chance of failure was that the line would 
be bitten off. I was, therefore, to pull the 
line as soon as the brute seized the bait. 
With a sidling motion the jug was taken 
and swallowed. I pulled the line, jerking 
the pistol clean away ; then came the ex- 
plosion, throwing up a column of water, 
that came on deck, and drenched us all. 


202 Treasure Hunting. 

For a few minutes we saw nothing, but 
finally we heard a tremendous splashing 
about twenty yards away, and the sight of 
the shark, apparently perpendicular in the 
water, was evidence that we had succeeded. 
I got into one of the boats, and made fast 
to our enemy by gaffing it under the side 
fin, and so brought it alongside. The en- 
tire upper part of the head and jaw were 
blown off, but the shark still seemed full of 
vigor, giving the boat several slaps with its 
tail, that fairly made the timbers spring. 
After plunging the grains again and again 
into the carcass, it was alive till near night. 

As a plan for killing sharks, our jug bat- 
tery did well enough, but it had no effect 
in making the water safe for the divers. 
When one of them was spoken to about 
going to work, he took an oar, and splash- 
ing in the water, said, “ Look ! ” We did 
look, and there, like a white ghost, a huge 
man-eater arose right under our bow. 


Treasure Hunting. 


203 


One of the Chinamen spoke good English, 
and I asked him what he thought of the 
weather. “ Bad blow come pretty soon. 
There go junk, runnin’ for Hanchow Bay.” 

Sure enough, three large junks, with 
their huge mainsails set, were fairly flying 
before the wind. The swell was increasing, 
lifting us up till our cables fairly sung with 
the strain, and then dropping us with a 
shock that shook every timber in the vessel. 

I spoke to the captain, and advised him 
to make sail, and, if we could not get in 
the anchors, proposed to buoy and let 
them go. I pointed out the low sandbanks 
on our port-quarter, over which a tremen- 
dous surf was making, as the most danger- 
ous lee we could have. Unfortunately, the 
captain, although he was a fair sailor, was 
also a slow and irresolute man ; and the 
manager, with all the presumption of igno- 
rance, advised that we should hold on until 
it blew over. 


204 


Treasure Hunting. 


Suddenly all the Chinamen cried out 
together, and pointed to the east. Low 
clouds, murky and vaperous, were twirling 
and twisting as if driven by a whirlwind. 

The gulls at once quit flying, and lay 
motionless on the water, and we heard the 
hiss of the tempest coming upon us. 

Calling out to the men to hold fast, I 
crouched under the weather bulwarks, and, 
seizing a ring, braced myself for the shock. 
In an instant the vessel reared like a fright- 
ened horse ; the cables parted, and the 
masts went like chaff to the windward — 
booms, sails and rigging flying through the 
air. We were a hopeless wreck, and it was 
done in half a minute. 

Then came a lull, and I looked about me. 
The captain and the manager were gone to 
their death, having both been swept over- 
board. We had also lost one of the English 
crew. The deck was swept clear, and the 
ruins of our two boats were drifting along- 


Treasure Hunting. 


205 


side. I knew that the storm had only be- 
gun, and, with the assistance of the China- 
men, crawled aft, and, seizing the wheel, I 
got the ship’s bow on to the shore, for this 
was our only chance of life. 

Again the blast struck us, and our vessel 
rushed hither and thither through the boil- 
ing seas, fairly driving the breath out of 
us. Looking to eastward, I saw a bank of 
foam as high as the mainyard of a ship, and 
behind this came a wave that would drive 
our vessel clean on to the beach. I saw it 
come without any sense of fear, for all my 
faculties were engaged in keeping the 
schooner from drifting on her beam. In 
fact, at a moment like this, a sailor has no 
time for fear, and I thought that we might 
go ashore and have a moment’s chance to 
escape. The wave struck us. A mass of 
green water poured over the ship, sweeping 
everything clean forward, except the China- 
man and myself. We were both carried. 


206 Treasure Hunting. 

like an arrow from a bow, clean up on the 
beach. 

“ Now for it. Jump ! ” I shouted, and 
we were both in the broken water. A 
piece of wreck-timber was embedded in the 
sand, and to that I clung. Again the re- 
turn of the wave beat the breath out of me, 
and I saw that I was on the bare sand. 
Catching me by the arm, the sailor ran up 
the beach, and, quite weak and breathless, 
I lay down. 

It was fully two hours before I recovered 
my strength, and the storm was still raging. 
Our ship had disappeared, and we two were 
the only survivors of the thirteen that had 
manned her. Fortunately, my companion 
had been on the island before, and after 
an hour’s walk we came to the ruins of a 
house where we found a water hole. 

Thirty years before this had been the 
dwelling-place of a noted priate known as 
“ Yellow Jack.” He had been taken and. 


Treasure, Hunting. 


207 


with his band, had been cut ofE by a boat 
expedition from the British Fleet. Tom 
W ung, the Chinaman, told me, in a low voice, 
that the place was infested with demons, 
and we had better get away before dark. 
So we returned to the shore, and passed 
a miserable night under the lee of a sand 
hill. 

The next morning I was surprised to see 
two men coming along the beach. Tom 
spoke to them, and learned that they were 
all that was left of a junk’s crew that had 
been dashed to pieces on the sands the day 
before. 

How to get away was now the question. 
We were only thirty miles from the main 
land, and there was no means of living 
except upon the rank mussels, that were 
disgusting to me. We gathered wreck 
w'ood and made a smoke and about noon 
saw a vessel coming through the strait. 
As she drew nearer, I made her out an 


208 


Treasure Hunting. 


English man-o’-war ; and so it proved. She 
was the Ariadne, Captain Cole. She came 
to about a mile away, and I saw, with joy 
in my heart, a boat lowered and pulling 
toward us ; within an hour I was telling 
the stalwart lieutenant my story. This 
adventure befell me on the nineteenth of 
November, 1871. I learned the storm had 
been a terrible one, and many European 
ships had foundered ; so I was not alone in 
my evil fortune. 

In two days I was landed, with my com- 
panions, at Wosung, a few miles below 
Shanghai. On reaching that place I re- 
ported our bad fortune to the treasure 
hunters, who cursed their luck, and attrib- 
uted it mainly to the cowardice of the 
Chinamen. 

They seemed determined to try again. I 
did not seek to discourage them, but said 
bluntly, that 1 had had enough of it, and 
would not go back for a hundred dollars a 


Treasure, Hunting. 


209 


month; although I declared that, had I 
been in command of the schooner, we could 
have weathered the gale and saved the 
crew. 

These money-hunting adventures were 
very common on the Chinese coast. The 
more improbable the story of treasure, the 
more likely was it to awaken interest and 
send men wandering amongst the islands, 
looking for what probably never existed, save 
in the yarns of some wind-bag of a sailor. 

The Minecoys, off the west coast of South- 
ern India, is another location fruitful of 
strange and weird stories of treasure 
wrecks. The loss of the East Indiaman 
Speedwell, that was cast away on these 
islands, with half a million of Warren Hast- 
ings’ money, about the beginning of the cen- 
tury, has always been a stock sailor story. 
Many attempts have been made to locate 
this wreck; and, what has deepened the 
mystery is, that very few of the vessels 


210 


Treasure Hunting. 


engaged in these enterprises have ever re- 
turned. Looking at the position of the 
islands, directly in the track of the north- 
west monsoons and exposed to the terrible 
tornadoes that are so common in that part 
of the ocean, I am not at all surprised at 
their fate. I had just escaped a like one, 
and, but for the greedy spirit that dictated 
the manager’s interference, we might at 
least have brought back our vessel. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


UNDER THE SOUTHERN CROSS. 

My friend in the customs, Mr. B , 

got me a berth as supercargo on a country 
ship, the Peiho, to sail to Amoy with rice. 
While we lay in that place a band of river 
pirates was captured by the Chinese authori- 
ties. They were sentenced to death, and, 
with a party of captains, I went outside 
the city walls, to the public execution 
grounds, to see them beheaded. There 
were twenty-nine of them, and they took 
it as a matter of course, and seemed en- 
tirely unconcerned. 

The executioner and his wife ranged the 
miserable men in rows. The headsman 


211 


212 Under the Southern Cross. 


proceeded to sharpen his broad knives, by 
beating the edges with a hammer on a 
little anvil, and, as each was sharpened, 
the woman would tuck the spare blades 
under her arm; the executioner, catching 
the foremost criminal by his pigtail, gave 
a drawing cut, and off came the head. 
The blood spurted out in jets. This was 
quite enough for me, and I started back. 
On the low fence sat a row of vultures, 
awaiting the feast. I was joined after a 
while by my friends, several of whom had 
bought knives from the headsman for a 
doljar. The weapons were regular chop- 
pers, made of soft iron, and very sharp. I 
would not have carried one to the ship for 
any consideration, as the whole thing was 
disgusting to me. One of the party was 
an English tourist, who spoke of the ex- 
hibition with interest, and declared he 
would go again : so people’s taste differ. 

I was glad to get away from here, as 


Under the Southern Cross. 213 


the place was terribly filthy and sickly, 
and two of the party to the execution 
ground died of fever before we got back to 
Shanghai. 

One of the ships was getting in a new 
mainmast, made of camphor wood, and I 
went aboard to see how the Chinese riggers 
worked. Every thing was ship-shape until 
a sudden clap of thunder broke over us. 
In an instant every Chinaman let go ; down 
came the blocks, the guys parted, and the 
huge stick fell, crashing through the bul- 
warks, and plunging overboard. Two of 
the riggers were smashed, and I had a 
narrow escape from the falling sheers. 
The enraged Irish mate got hold of the 
Chinese foreman, and nearly banged the 
life out of him. But, as one of the old 
residents said, “ You may live here twenty 
years, and think you know these people, 
but they will be sure to surprise you by 
some infernal caper in the end.” 


214 Under the Southern Cross. 

A joyful surprise awaited me on my re- 
turn to Shanghai. I received a letter from 
home ; all were well, but my mother prayed 
and plead with me to come back. In the 
letter were a few words in Jack’s rough 
hand, that looked as if written with a mar- 
line-spike. He, too, urged me to return. 
As^ I read this message from home, my 
mind shaped all things as I la.st saw them : 
the cabins, the Ridge, and the rocky 
Coulter’s Knob ; the break in the distant 
Alleghanies through which, in old times, 
the Mohawks had come to* attack hapless 
Wyoming. 

My mother inquired whether Toby was 
with me. Toby was my best-loved dog, a 
noble bear hound, and, in my opinion, the 
best one in the mountains. He had got 
away the day after I had left ; had fol- 
lowed my track, and had never come 
back. No ; he was not with me. The 
unfathomable sea was between me and all 


Under the Southern Cross. 215 


I loved, but I would go back. I arose 
from the bench on which I was sitting 
with a mind resolved to leave this part of 
the world, and answer my mother’s plead- 
ings for return. A longing, beyond words, 
to see my people filled my heart. 

Sailors are often possessed with this ; and 
I have known a bronzed and hardy fellow, 
who had been knocking about the world, 
fairly break down when homesickness en- 
tered his soul. 

“ Shipmet, I have been thirty years away, 
but now it gives me a pain in the breast 
to think on it ; and if it wasn’t for this 
cursed water I’d walk there, if I laid down 
and died at the end,” so once spake old 
Jack Burnet. 

Sailors have an idea that this desire is a 
precursor of death ; and they will often tell 
of shipmates who are lost by sudden casu- 
alties, affirming that on the day before his 
death, the departed had spoken much of 


216 Under the Southern Cross. 

his home and friends. Indeed, it would 
not be strange if many a poor fellow, worn 
out with toil and hard usage, and think- 
ing of these things, shoidd let go his hold, 
and, in a moment, find rest from the troubles 
of a wretched life. 

I had saved money enough to send one 
hundred and fifty dollars home, and very 
proud I was. Although there were plenty 
of ships in port, Yankees bound home 
were as scarce as ‘‘ hen’s teeth.” In fact, 
the flag that once floated over the fastest 
ships, and shielded the best sailors in the 
world, will, in a few years, be a stranger to 
the ocean ; and waggish English shipmasters 
will declai’e on meeting the Stars and Stripes 
at sea : 

Why, bless my heart, Mr. Buntline, it 
is a Yankee ship, surely. I remember see- 
ing that flag when I was a boy. The poor 
fellow must have drifted off the coast and 
got lost. Hadn’t yer better chalk the 


Under the Southern Cross, 217 


reckoning on the head of a barrel and give 
it him; and tell him to get’ home as fast as 
he can ? ’’ 

Of course Americans appreciate this kind 
of fun; and receive it with ^ Purser s 
Grins/’ 

I went to see my fast friend; Mr. B , 

and he at once told me to call on Captain 
Barrj; of the ship Trident; and^ with the 
recommendation he would give me; I would; 
no doubt; get a berth. He also wrote a 
letter to his brother; at Sidney; speak- 
ing highly of my character for honesty 
and sobriety ; and I felt that; coming here 
as I did; a poor sailor; and without friendS; 
I had not done so badly; after all. 

The Trident was a twelve hundred ton 
Australian clipper; bound to Sidney. Her 
captain was a regular old sea-dog, with no 
shore polish about him. Many merchant 
captains in these days take the quarter- 
deck ashore with them, and are very gen- 


218 Under the Southern Cross. 


teel and pretentious in their deportment ; 
but old Barry despised all this, and was 
unmistakably a sailor from “ clew to earing,” 
on land or off soundings. 

He hailed me with a voice like a trumpet : 

“ Well, my hearty, ye’re a reg’lar square- 
rigger, eh ? My third mate is a drunken 
swab, and I am goin’ to send him out of 
the vessel at once ; you can sign articles in 
his place, if you will.” 

“ All right, sir,” I replied. “ I’m your 
man.” 

Come right down in the cabin, then,” 
said Captain Barry, “and put yer fist to 
the papers.” 

I did so, and went to work next day. 

In sailor phrase, a third mate is “ neither 
fish, flesh, nor good red-herring.” He works 
harder than the men before the mast, and 
gets less thanks. His pay is but little more 
than theirs, and the only difference seems 
to be that he sleeps aft, has better living. 


Under the Southern Cross. 219 


and is called Mister/' One thing was in 
my favor : I was fully equal to my duties, 
and I knew it, and so felt confident of 
gettiug along. The first and second mates 
were both elderly men, and had sailed with 
Captain Barry many years ; like him, they 
were rough diamonds. 

We had a crew of forty-six men, all older 
than myself ; while they did not rush work, 
as is common on American ships, they did 
it well, and required but little ordering. 
In fact, in furling sail, sending down royal 
masts and spars, they were better than any 
crew that I had ever been with, and were 
in marked contrast to the unlucky Gladiator. 
I did not see a single man struck or abused 
during the entire voyage. 

In these days an American ship like the 
Trident would be worked with half the men 
we had, and the officers would be driven 
themselves. It shows, therefore, the finest 
seamanship on their part, that, with such 


220 Under the Southern Cross. 


light crews, they can bring their vessels into 
port. Of course the ofl&cers are not to 
blame. It is the fault of the owners, who 
strive to keep up a competition with the 
steam craft. 

We left Shanghai, loaded with tea and 
silks, on the tenth of September, 1874, and 
made our course south. Our ship was a 
traveller, and our captain famous for carry- 
ing sail. He would stand on the quarter- 
deck, and rub his hands with satisfaction, 
when our ship Avas jumping the crests of 
the waves under full canvas. 

We were to go through the Straits of 
Sunda, and around the west coast of Aus- 
tralia to our ]Dort. By this course we 
avoided the dangerous navigation among 
the reefs and islands of the North Pacific. 
Our best sailing was done with the wind 
just abaft the beam. We set weather stun- 
sels up to the royals, and, in the captain’s 
words, “cracked on.” 


Under the Southern Cross 221 


Of all the creations of man’s handiwork, 
there is nothing so beautiful as a ship under 
sail, with a good breeze a-blowing. She is 
cutting a feather,” dividing the waves with 
her sharp bows in jets of sparkling spray ; 
every movement indicates life ; she leans to 
the lee, in her struggle with the mighty 
winds, and every rope swings with the 
strain. The powerful sailors who are steer- 
ing, are as one man, for they feel, in every 
nerve, that their winged sea-horse responds 
with almost human volition to the touch of 
the wheel. In nautical phrase, They are 
making her . talk.” To work a clipper to 
the advantage of the owners, requires per- 
fect seamanship, and ceaseless supervision. 
Not a capful of wind is lost ; canvas that 
does not fill must come in, although in five 
minutes after up go the men to set it again. 
She must make speedy voyages, or lose 
money and prestige. But * the labor to 
accomplish this is dreadful, and breaks men 


222 Under the Southern Cross. 


down quicker than any other service. Be- 
sides all this, a vessel, like a lady’s watch, 
is always out of repair. No baby is tended 
and humored more ; for ships have whims, 
like human beings. Some are tender, and 
require nice work at the helm to keep in 
a wind ; others have a passion for stern- 
boards, thus provoking unmeasured pro- 
fanity from the mate ; others, again, have 
a trick of diving under, and bringing the 
green water in fair waves over her bows, 
and flooding the decks forward, when, shak- 
ing herself clear, as if in sportive glee, she 
makes her coxxrse. 

“ Be trxie to yer ship ! ” is one of the 
sailor’s commandments ; and, though he 
may abuse his vessel as an ‘‘infernal old 
bucket ! ” he fires up when a stranger at- 
tempts to criticise. I have known a suidy, 
silent mate, who had a growl for every one, 
and a good word for no one, and whose first 
greeting to the wife of his bosom, on reach- 


Under the Southern Cross. 223 


ing home, after a three years’ cruise was, 

Now, old woman, if ye’ve got a clean shirt 
for me, I want it,” stamp and clap his hands 
with delight at overhauling and passing 
some rival ship, and sarcastically order the 
cook to get out his bellows, and mlike a 
wind for that craft on the port-quarter.” 

I never was so hardly worked in my life, 
and I had no time for thought of anything 
but my duties. Fortunately we were fairly 
well maimed, and I was not compelled to do 
double w^ork aloft, although from first to 
last, I kept the sailor post of honor, the 
weather earing. 

We had splendid weather. Passing 
through the Straits of Sunda, with the 
grand promontory of Java Head on our 
port-quarter, we came into the Indian 
Ocean. We scented the perfumed land- 
breeze, rich in spicy odors. After the racy 
and briny breezes of the ocean, how grand 
it seemed ! The waving palms richly dight 


224 Wider the Southern Cross. 


in dark-green plumes, nodded us adieu, and, 
by morning, we were again alone upon the 
open sea. • 

One circumstance made this voyage espe- 
cially pleasant to me. There were no rows, 
no hazing, and very little bad language 
used to the men. They did their duty, and 
were well treated, and I did not have occa- 
sion to blame one of them during the entire 
cruise. Our two mates, Stimson and Jones, 
were as alike as the Corsican Brothers, and 
no doubt regarded silence as golden, so sel- 
dom did they break it. But if they only 
would have talked, what stoxdes they could 
have told ! for they had been at sea for 
forty years. Our first officer, years before, 
had been wrecked on the New Zealand coast, 
in the brig Albatros. All the crew who 
escaped the waves, save himself, were killed 
and eaten, while he was adopted by the 
Maories, and went through the ceremony 
of tattooing. You could see through the 


Under the Southern Cross. 225 


dark hue on his weather-beaten face, 
bronzed by fiery Indian suns, strange lines 
an(? circles in blue and red, that told the 
story of his adventures. 

This Indian Ocean is the graveyard of 
shipping. Storms come without warning, 
and are fearfully violent. Our captain 
knew this part of the world well, and was 
constantly on deck, looking to the north- 
east, from whence blow the fierce monsoons. 

One morning, just as eight bells was strik- 
ing, he called out in a startled voice, ‘‘ Mr. 
Stimson, take in royals and top-gallant-sels ; 
reef maintop-sel and course, and send down 
royal mast and yards. We’ll have it before 
long. Be quick ! ” 

I saw no sign of bad weather, but all 
hands worked with a will, and a smarter 
piece of work I never witnessed. No sooner 
had we got the ship stripped, than clouds 
began to loom up in the northwest ; the 
sea to sob and moan, heaving the vessel up 


226 Under the Southern Cross. 

and down, so that it needed stout holding-on 
to keep one’s feet. Then came a rush of 
wind, hot as if from the sands of the desert. 
It struck us, and for five long days we were 
fairly “ hove to.” 

I had never seen anything like it at sea. 
But we did not start a tack or sheet, nor 
lose a spar. At times, the deck was almost 
straight up and down ; the lee side was 
under water ; everything was lashed, and 
life lines were rigged. In fact, all that good 
seamanship approved was done, until, at 
midnight, the storm broke, and by morning 
the weather was lovely. By ten o’clock, 
mast and spars were sent up and under can- 
vas sheeted home the ship was fairly fly- 
ing. . So it continued, until, in eighty-two 
days, we sighted Sidney Head, and anchored 
in the magnificent harbor of Port Jackson. 

When we got to the dock, I bid my cap- 
tain good-by, and went on shore. “Well, 
Mr. Bonny,” he said, “ you’re the youngest 


Under the Southern Cross. 227 


officer I ever shipped, but you’ve done your 
work well, sir, and more than that I couldn’t 
say of any man.” And so we parted. 

I at once hunted up Mr. B ’s brother, 

who was a marine insurer or underwriter. 
He read the letter, and told me to come in 
three days, advised me about the city, and 
said he would see Captain Barry. 

I wandered around the old Convict City, 
and looked with pleasure at the splendid 
gardens of the rich merchants, gorgeous 
with the magnificent trees and flowers of 
this part of the world. Going down to the 
docks, I met our wooden first mate, with 
his partner, the second mate. They were 
both very drunk, and indulging in a monkey 
dance. Not a word did either speak, but, 
with hands in the pockets of their pea 
jackets, they capered away. Old Stimson 
hailed me as Yankee,” and invited me to 
bowse up my jib,” but I declined, and went 
on. And this is the relaxations of a sailor. 


228 Under the Southern Cross. 


I again called on Mr. B , and he gave 

me employment. My business was to assist 
the agent of one of the great insurance 
offices, in surveying vessels. It was light 
work, and was made pleasant by the charac- 
ter of the gentleman who was my superior. 
He had been a captain in the Royal Navy, 
and was always kind and considerate with 
me, although I knew that he did not like 
Americans. 

I met many strange characters here. 
Some of them old Botany Bay “ lags ” or 
convicts. The man who took care of our 
boats was a splendid-looking old fellow, 
with abundant white hair, and, although 
past eighty, he was strong and vigorous, 
and very intelligent. He and I became 
quite intimate, and one day when he had 
taken a glass too much, I learned the his- 
tory of his life. It was most wonderful. 

He was the son of an English rector, 
well born, and educated at Cam.biidge. He 


Under the Southern Cross. 229 


took to evil courses while at college, and 
forged a draft on a rich relative ; was de- 
tected, convicted, and sentenced to trans- 
portation for twenty years. His description 
of life on the convict ship was graphic and 
most horrible. The guards shot down the 
men in the hold, at the least sign of mutiny, 
and they were two hundred and ten days 
making the voyage to New South Wales. 
Desperate and despairing, he escaped into 
the bush, and became a member of Dona- 
hue’s Bush Rangers. He was captured, and 
sentenced to the gallows, but was reprieved, 
and sent to Norfolk Island, 

His life there w^as a shuddering recital of 
horrors. Men became so savage under the 
harsh treatment of their jailers that they 
would murder each other merely to get the 
relaxation of a voyage to Sidney, although 
they knew that the inevitable gibbet awaited 
them at the end. Any attempt at escape 
meant deatli, if detected ; yet, in spite of 


230 Under the Southern Cross. 

guards and bloodhounds, a party did get 
away in a boat, and, seizing a whale ship, 
killed the officers and crew, and drifted 
across the Pacific. They were wholly igno- 
rant of navigation, for their leader was a 
weaver by trade, but they finally beached 
the ship on the coast of Chili. 

To a sailor there is something incredible 
in all this, but it is nevertheless true. The 
last survivor was captured, and given up to 
the British Government years after, and 
was hung in Sidney. 

The old man who told me the story, fin- 
ally had his sentence commuted, for saving 
the life of an officer, and got his ticket-of- 
leav.e. His numerous attempts to escape 
had added eight years to his original sen- 
tence, but he lived it out, made a fortune 
in the gold fields, spent it all, and was now' 
making a poor living in his present occu- 
pation. Looking at his fine patrician face, 
and comparing it with his desperate career. 


Under the Southern Cross. 231 


made one remember other convict stories, 
and revived memories of those dreadful 
times when twenty-eight men were hanged 
in one week, in Sidney jail, for murder and 
bushranging. 

I am ashamed to say that my feverish 
desire to see my mother and my home had 
subsided. My only wish now was to make 
and save money, and to send home remit- 
tances from time to time ; but, long after, I 
knew that this did not satisfy my mother’s 
longing for my coming home. 

I made, at long intervals, two uneventful 
voyages to the Marquesas Islands, and it 
was not until 1879 that I fully determined to 
return to America. This I did as second 
mate of the British ship Emperor, Cap- 
tain Cutts. I landed in San Francisco in 
June, 1880, and went east on the Pacific 
railroad. I have already told of my visit 
to my lost home, but no language can tell 
of my shame and sadness at finding it deso- 


232 Under the Southern Cross. 

late, and my people dead and scattered. 
But this is the experience of most sailors. 
What fascination there is in life at sea, so 
sterile and so profitless, that can thus hold 
most of us as in iron bands, I cannot under- 
stand. But it is so ; and my own life is an 
illustration. 

In ten years the career of square-rigged 
ships will be ended, and all the romance 
and majesty of sea life must pass away. 
No sailor will, if he can help it, ship on 
a commercial steamer, and “ pot-wallop ” 
about her decks in grease and dirt. 

Indeed, with their yearly diminution of 
sail surface the mercantile marine does not 
need sailors ; any pier-head loafer will serve 
its turn. But, all the same, it is a hard 
service, with the poorest pay, and less 
chance for life than on board one of the old 
sea birds. For, though wrecked, a wooden 
ship would float, but your iron shell washes 
under, and goes down like a stone. 


Under the Sontliern Cross, 233 


So^ farewell to the dim fo’kesel^ the life- 
holding foot rope, and the plunging yard ; 
farewell to the world of waters, and the 
perilous service in which a man’s heart beats 
high in defiance of danger and the driving 
blast ! I shall never see them again. 




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The praise of a book of travel is rightly held to 
be “It is next to the journey itself.” 

Some Tilings Abroad. By Rev. Alexander McKenzUi, 
D. D. 450 pages. 12ino, cloth, $1.50. 

You sit by your evening lamp and read, as if 
from the letters of a friend, the record of his 
daily experiences. He sees the north and south 
of Europe, via Constantinople into Asia, the Holy 
Land, etc. 

As in the case of friendly letters, your enjoy- 
ment in reading depends on the writer’s geniality 
quite as much as on the news he has to tell of his 
wanderings. What could be more agreeable than 
to be taken thus to the far-oif haunts of seekers 
after knowledge and pleasure without the toilsome 
goings and waitings and coming back at the end 
of it all. You have the shade of your own home 
trees in the hot afternoon and delicious sleep in 
your own home bed and the sound of your break- 
fast bell in the morning; nevertheless you have 
seen Some Things Abroad and talked them over 
delightfully. You probably know quite as much 
about them as many who bear the. tossings and 
dust and tossings again of a journey a quarter 
round the world. For our part we ask no better 
company. Dr. McKenzie tells it oif so gayly, we 
can hardly believe in the hardships of seeing. 

The book has the air of talking over the day in 
the cool of the evening, only two or three of us 
there. 

Garland from the Poets, selection of short 
miscellaneous poems by Coventry Patmore, with 
not a word of comment or explanation beyond the 
poets’ names. 250 pages, 128 poems. 16mo, cloth, 
76 cents. 


As a people we hold opinions concerning the 
rest of the world notoriously incomplete. A book 
that makes us familiar with life abroad as it 
really is is a public benefit as well as a source of 
pleasure. 

The common saying goes : there is nothing like 
travel for opening one’s eyes to the size of the 
world, to the diversity of ways of thinking and 
living, and to the very little chance of our having 
hit on the true interpretation of everything; no 
education is so broadening. But it is true that 
few have the aptness at seeing strange things in a 
way to cemprehend them; and to see and mis- 
judge is almost worse than not to see at all. 

There is no preparation for travel or substitute 
for it that goes so far towards mending our recep- 
tivity or ignorance as an agreeable book that 
really takes one into the whole of the life one pro- 
poses to study. There is an excellent one out just 
now. 

Life the Germans. By Emma Louise Paity. 34 # 

pages. 12mo, cloth, $1.50. 

The wonder of it is : it is written by a student- 
girl! — that a girl has the judgment, the tact, the 
self-suppressing watchfulness, the adaptability, 
freshness and readiness, teachableness, the charm- 
ing spirit and manner that lets her into the inside 
view of everything, makes her welcome in homes 
and intimate social gatherings, not as one of 
themselves, but as a foreigner-learner ; and added 
to all these splendid endowments the gift of easy- 
flowing narrative, light in feeling and full of sub- 
stance ! 

The book is wonderfully full in the sense of 
solidity. Sentence piled on sentence. Little dis- 
course; all observation; participation. You see 
and share; and you rise from the reading, not 


with a jumble of nnconneeted information, but 
with a clear impression of having met the peoplo 
and lived in the fatherland. You know the Ger- 
mans as you might not get to know them if you 
lived for a year or two among them. 


Nobody but Mrs. Diaz could get so much wit, 
good sense, and bright nonsense out of barn 
lectures before an audience of nine by a philoso- 
pher of eight years and a month. But trust the 
author of the Cat Book, the William Henry Letters, 
Lucy Maria, Polly Cologne and the Jimmyjohns. 

The John Spicer Lectures. By Abby Morton Diaz. 99 
pages. 16mo, 60 cents. 

All in perfect gravity. These are the subjects : 
Christmas Tree, Knives, Swapping, Clothes, Food, 
Money. And the passages where the applause 
came in are noted. The applause and groans are 
often important parts of the text. 


Excellent reading are sketches of eminent men 
and women if only they are bright enough to 
make one wish they were longer. A great deal 
of insight into history, character, human nature, 
is to be got from just such sketches. 

Here are two bookfuls of them : 

Stories of Great Men and Stories of Remarkable 'Womcii. 
Both by Faye Huntington. 136 and 99 pages. 16mo, cloth, 
60 cents each. 

Both the great men and remarkable women, of 
whom by the way there are twenty-six and twenty- 
two, are chosen from many sorts of eminence ; 
but they are sketched in a way to draw from the 
life of each some pleasant practical lesson. No^ 
designed for Sunday Schools apparently ; but good 
there. 


Tlie iamily Flights, by Edward Everett Hale 
and Susan Hale, are a series of book journeys 
through the several countries with eyes and ears 
wide open, old eyes and young eyes, and ears. The 
books are full of pictures, and fuller of knowl- 
edge not only of what is going on but what has 
gone on ever since book -making began, and fuller 
>et of brightness and interest. You see the old as 
old ; but you see it ; you see where it was and the 
marks it left. You see the new with eyes made 
sharper by knowledge of w^hat has gone on in the 
world. 

In other words these books amount to some- 
thing like going through these places with a trav- 
eling-companion who knows all about them and 
their histories. 

They are written and pictured for boys and 
girls : but there is nothing to hinder the old folks 
going along. Will you go? 

Family Flight tlirough France, Germany, Norway and 
Switzerland. 405 pages. 

Family Flight over Egypt and Syria. 388 pages. 

Family Flight through Spain. 360 pages. 

Family Flight around Home (which means about Boston/ 
S66 pages. 

Family Flight through Mexico. 300 pages. 

Each 8yo, boards, $1.75 ; cloth, $2.25. 

One of the most effective means of exciting 
and satisfying zeal for knowledge of the w^orld we 
have in books. 

A good book for young folks is Ned Mel- 
bourne’s Mission, not too good to have a spice of 
life and adventure, but with that indirect influence 
for good thinking and good doing that is more 
potent than a sermon to young people. 

Ned Melbourne’s Mission. 12mo, cloth, $1.50. 


Can you imagine a more welcome visitor than a 
civilized Chinaman with the recollections of the 
flowery land still fresh, but seeing with our eyes 
and estimating by our weights and measures, and 
gifted with a tolerable English tongue? 

AVben 1 was a Boy ill China. By Yan Phou Lee. 112 pages 
16mo. cloth, 60 cents. 

The author, grandson of a mandarin, son of a 
merchant, born in ’61, went to the Government 
School at Shanghai, and in ’73 was chosen one of 
the thirty sent to the United States to be educa- 
ted. 

He writes on : Infancy ; House and Household ; 
Cookery ; Games and Pastimes ; Girls of My Ac- 
quaintance; School and School-life; Religions; 
Holidays; Stories and Story-tellers (gives a speci- 
men story); How I Went to Shanghai; How I 
Prepared for America ; First Experiences. 

The narrative is personal. Jumps right into 
it. Tells of himself as a baby, of course from 
knowledge of what happens to boy babies there. 
Illustrates Lowell’s commendation of President 
Lincoln’s English — “ strikes but once and so well 
that he needn’t strike but once.” An easy t\Titer, 
graceful enough, but quick and done with it ; full 
of his subject, and yet not over-fond; impatient 
lest his reader tire. He need not hurry. We are 
eager listeners, not at all critical. 

An American boy of twelve beginning life in the 
heart of China and writing a book at twenty-six 
“ When I was a Boy in Am(.rica ” would indeed be 
a remarkable man to write so well ! 

May Yan Phou Lee have a million readers! 


Never were easier stories told than the Cats’ 
Arabian Nights. If Pussyanita lives till the chil- 
dren tire of reading or hearing them read, she will 
live to be very old indeed. They softened King 
Grimalkum and saved the lives of Pussyanita and 
all the rest of the cats. 

Cats’ Arabian Nights ; or King Grimalkum and Pussyanita. 
By Abby Morton Diaz. 227 quarto pages and full of cat 
pictures. 8vo, boards, $1.25. 

Mrs. Diaz puts most wonderful wisdom into 
nonsense, and nobody gives it the credit of seri- 
ousness. It takes the wisdom underneath to give 
it the fizz. 


A Book of Golden Deeds of All Times and Lands 
is a series of fifty tales of heroic and noble actions 
culled out of history by Charlotte M. Yonge “for 
the young, and intelligent uneducated people ” by 
which the learned author means not for historians. 
“Enough of the surrounding events have in gen- 
eral been given to make the situation comprehen- 
sible, even without knowledge of the general 
history.” And “there is a cloud of doubt,” she 
says in her preface, “resting on a few of the 
tales, which it may be honest to mention, though 
they were far too beautiful not too tell.” 466 
pages including a time-table. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 


Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical 
Poems in the English Language, by Francis Tur- 
ner Palgrave, difiers from other collections in the 
attempt to include in it all the best, and none be- 
side the best, by writers not living when the col- 
lection was begun. As the distinguished Editor 
rightly says in his preface, it would obviously 
have been invidious to apply this standard to the 
living. 405 pages, including notes and indices. 
16mo, cloth, $1.00. 


A pleasant small edition of Bunyan’s Pilgrim's 
Progress (410 pages), is in the Golden Treasuiy 
series, uniform with 
Thomas a Kempis’s Imitation of Christ (285 pages) 

Baxter’s Saints’ Rest (288 pages) 

Tholuck’s Hours of Devotion (316 pages) ind Macdufl’s 
Mind and Words of Jesus (316 pages). 

The bindings are neat and perfectly plain, gilt 
titles and tops. Each 16mo, cloth, ^1.00, 


The author of Possibilities has written another 
story for boys of how a little six-year-old waif of 
the street grew into a good and prosperous man. 

Only Me. By Rev. Thomas L. Baily. 296 pages. J2mo, 
cloth, $1.25. 

The story is easy enough all through to catch 
and keep the wandering thoughts of the boys for 
whom it is written. They are not experienced 
readers. They skip whole books if written over 
their head, or under. 


The man who wrote “Ten Acres Enough" 
ought to know how to keep country boys in the 
country where, as a rule, they are w’orth the most 
and will fare the best. He writes a story for 
them. 

Farming for Boys. By the author of Ten Acres Enough. 
286 pages; illustrated. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

A handy little old man in the story sets out to 
show the boys how to make it interesting. Things 
are rather dull at first; but he understands boy 
nature as well as farming; and, under the guise 
of keeping them busy, he teaches them dozens of 
things that farmers ought to know, but generally 
don’t. Eight here is the use of the book. It is 
a Tegular treatise on farming. They actually get 
to talking of wealth before they ai c done with it. 


How to Cook Well is promising title. The au- 
thor, J. Rosalie Benton. We light on this sen- 
tence on breakfast: “Yet in how many families 
is it the custom to send the master of the house 
to his daily round of business with an unsatisfied 
feeling after partaking of a hurried meal alto- 
gether unpalatable ! ” That is still more promis- 
ing. There are 400 pages of performance. 12mo, 
cloth, »$1.50. 

One of the ways to get some notions of things 
into young folks’ heads without any work on their 
part is to tell them stories and weave in the 
knowledge. 

Another way is to make a book of such stories. 
The book has the advantage of the story-teller. 
It can be full of pictures ; and one can be more 
careful in making a book than in talking. If his 
memory slips a little, he can stop and hunt up the 
facts. 

Story Book of Science. By Lydia Hoyt Farmer. Illus- 
trated. 330 pages. 12mo, cloth, $1.50. 

There are twenty different stories and seventy^ 
five pictures. A surprising number of bits of 
knowledge are woven and pictured in; and the 
book is as light and easy as if it were nonsense. 

There’s so much to know nowadays. Children 
have to begin before they know it. 


Waifs and their Authors is a collection, by A. 
A. Hopkins, of poetry worthy of preservation, 
mainly out of newspapers and by living writers 
not yet ranked as Poets — with notes, personal, 
biographical, critical, genial always, under twenty^ 
one names. 317 pages. 


But, when a novel is full of every high satisfac- 
tion, refreshment and gratification in spite of its 
carrying freight of practical wisdom, or rather, 
when wisdom itself is a part of the feast and the 
fiow of soul is all the more refreshing for it, then, 
we take it, that novel stands apart from the novels 
of any time or country. And such is the Dorothy 
Thorn of Julian Warth. Not the loftiest flaght of 
imagination; simple in plot — indeed there is no 
plot — the passing of time lets the story go on, 
and it goes the easy way ; and, when it is done, H 
is done. We close the book with regret. The 
exaltation has passed; and we are again in the 
world where wisdom is tame and common things 
bereft of their dignity. But we have sat witli the 
gods and the nectar was heavenly. 


Stories have not run out; but we often think, 
as we read some quaint and simple tale that be- 
longs to another time or people, “ how good the 
stories were in those days ! ” or ‘ ‘ they are better 
story-tellers than ours ! ” The truth is, good 
stories are rare and live forever. To-day may 
lose them ; to-morrow finds them. 

Swiss Stories for Children and for those who Love Children. 
From the German of Madame Spyri by Lucy Wlieelock. 214 
pages. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

So true to child life and family life, they belong 
to us as truly as to the Swiss mountaineers. 

Some of these have delighted English ears 

before. 

% 

T 


Dorothy Thorn is a first-class American ncvel. 

By which we do not mean to declare the authoi 
a Walter Scott on his second book. The world 
may take its time and rate him as it will; but 
Dorothy Thorn we are sure of. 

It begins as life begins, wherever we pick up 
the threads of it, human. It goes on the same. 
The tale is a sketch of not-surprising events. 
There is not an incident told in the book that does 
not seem tame in the telling, tame with the unro- 
mantic commonplace of life ; and yet there is not 
a spot where the people forget their parts or hesi- 
tate for words or fail to suit the action to them : 
and, however easy the pages, the chapters move 
with conscious strength; and the whole is one; 
it falls with the force of a blow. 

There is a moral to Dorothy Thorn ; there are 
more than one. ' She is made to live for something 
beyond the reader’s diversion. What that purpose 
is, or what those purposes are, is not set down in 
the book ; but nobody reads and asks. It is high 
in the sense of being good ; and good in the sense 
of being successful. It touches the question of 
questions, work ; and the wisdom comes from two 
women who do not work. It touches never so 
lightly the rising question, the sphere of woman — 
the wisdom on that is said in a dozen words by a 
woman who has never given her “sphere” an 
anxious thought. 

Dorothy Thorn of Thornton. By Julian Warth. 276 pages. 
12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

There is hardly a less promising condition out 
of which to write a novel than having a hobby to 
ride ; and of hobbies what can be less picturesque 
than the question how we wlio work and we who 
direct are going to get on together hannoniouslyf 

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